Love of a Spartan: After the War
by AshleyBudrick
Summary: The war is over. John-117 can finally try to live a normal life, albeit being haunted by memories. However, a static message intercepted from an outer system calls for his return. The universe isn't ready to say good bye to Master Chief - not just yet.
1. Recuperation

**Love of a Spartan: After the War**

**Author's Note:**

If you are a new reader, you should be aware that this story is a sequel to one before it called Love of a Spartan. If you haven't read it, I would recommend doing so before embarking on this one, as there are several things, original characters and already developed relationships and situations - that probably won't be as easily understood or possibly even provide confusion if the prequel to this isn't read first. It can be found on my profile. Just helping you out - as I know for anyone new to this is mostly jumping into a story that's being continued, not just being started, so many explanations that can be found in the previous story, aren't in this one. If you have read the other, though, continue on! But either way, I hope you enjoy them both. - AshleyBudrick

**Prologue**

I wanted to forget  
I'm trying to forget  
Don't leave me here again  
I'm with you forever, the end

**Chapter 1: Recuperation **

**August 2****nd****, 2553 - Los Angeles, CA – USA**

_I hate what I've become. I can't bear to be like the others I see on the news, all smiles; but I can't go on being this… this drone, this robotic man with only a handful of facial expressions - each one looking painfully forced as if someone was jabbing a hot poker into my back. I know I'm disappointing everyone. I'm ruining the mood. I've been the cause of awkward silence countless times in these past 72 hours alone. _

_Renee and Amy were able to coax me from my shell eighteen years ago, but it is going to take a lot more time this time around, I can feel it. It's hard for me to even smile let alone laugh and carry on like they are probably expecting me to do. What I've seen, what I've done - is etched into my mind like someone would etch their initials into a tree: years and years go by and it doesn't disappear. It's not like I'm able to easily forget things anyhow. But, I know if there was an ability to have selected mind-wiping, I would be the first to sign up. _

_I'm a fool. I'm glad the public never figured out who the __dishevelled__, unshaven figure was who walked off the ship in the Kennedy center. I'm sure my face would disappoint. I in general disappoint - I'm clearly offending Renee and Amy - I can sense it from both of them, especially Renee. She often goes to speak to me but stops. There's such large silence between us. Even boisterous Amy regards me with an almost pitiful expression. Her little Troy looks at me with this puzzled look, probably wondering why I don't say anything but a few words. When I try to make eye contact with him, he looks away like he's afraid. And Amy told me I'm the kid's role model. I'm sorry kid, but I'm no longer the shining hero in MJOLNIR armor. _

_I haven't left Renee's house since I arrived here on her birthday. I sit on the couch with this data pad and write senseless things like this. I sleep odd hours, but it is never relaxing. Renee seems to accept this, she doesn't disturb me. I feel love towards her, I do. I put my arms around her waist, I kiss her, but it feels all foreign to me, and it is as if my senses are numb to it. _

_Amy asked me yesterday if I went to bed with Renee. For a moment, I didn't even know what she meant. I am surprised that that longing hasn't even awoken in me. I don't forget that day on Reach, it's still pleasant to remember - but now, even those senses, as powerful as they are, are practically numb. I know Renee must be wondering what is wrong with me. _

_She won't show me her scars yet. She is very introverted. Then again, so am I. Will things change? Will things return to how they used to be eighteen years ago? Or is this how we will grow old together? _

John's head shot up as he heard bare-footed footsteps approaching down the hallway towards the living room. With a flick of his thumb, his words he had spent the last fifteen minutes creating were deleted. Slipping the data pad into his pocket, he looked up and watched as Renee Kilburn poked her head around the corner.

She was wearing a light blue housecoat, despite the heat from the California sun already beating down outside. Her long hair was tousled and her eyes looked tired. She made eye contact with him, and for a moment, they didn't say a word to one another.

"I figured you'd be here," she said, her voice small. She cleared her throat and waited for his response. John looked down the length of her body, and then let his eyes trail along the floor - until he found a spot just left of his bare feet, where there was a large, swirling knot in the wood. Momentarily, his vision betrayed him, and he saw Halo, blue and silver against the black backdrop of thousands of glittering stars. He closed his eyes, and remembered that Renee had spoken. He glanced up to her, noticing the concern in her eyes.

"Couldn't sleep." he replied. It was the truth. He had tossed and turned, got up and paced the house, up and down the hallway and through the rooms. When he did eventually sleep, his brain conjured up crazy dreams that made him want to avoid sleep like it was the plague. The latest dream he remembered, was of course, set on a battle field. Shooting Covenant, plasma bolts soaring perilously close to his helmet, his shields dropping, beeping frantically in his ear - a scenario he'd experienced too much.

"Dreams?" she questioned, snapping him again from his thoughts.

"If you could call them that," John raised his eyebrow, but it didn't do much to alter his expression. When he arched it in this particular way, the scar running through it was more prominent. Renee wasn't sure where he had gotten it from, but it was fairly pink - arcing from halfway up his forehead diagonally down through his left eyebrow, and just stopped before reaching his top eyelid. She took this moment to regard his other prominent scars on his face - a wide one that ran across the bridge of his strong nose, a discoloration in his lower lip where it had been likely split thoroughly. Then there was of course, the faintest scar just below his eye. He had that when she first met him.

The scars on his face were laughable compared to those that covered the rest of his body. When Renee had seen him remove his shirt as he was heading into the shower - she had been utterly shocked. Although he had had his fair share of scars in 2535 - their number had tripled since then. His natural skin color - which was a ghostly white (whiter than it had been before), was splotched with dark and light pink scars - whether they be little scratches or wide gaping streaks that spanned his entire chest and back. In a way, it was like someone had taken a series of different sized paintbrushes, dipped them into an ugly dull pink color, and had their fun scribbling senselessly on his skin.

Her own scars were nothing compared to his. When she had witnessed his scars, she realized that John must've been wounded hundreds of times in the eighteen years they'd been apart.

Renee, breaking from her thoughts, crossed the room and sat down on the edge of the couch beside him. For a moment, it was the awkward feeling one would get when they had to sit close to stranger. But, she reached across and put her hand on John's large one. It was like touching leather instead of skin. John didn't respond to the gesture for a moment, but she knew what he would do - what he did every other time she made an effort to hold his hand since his return.

She turned to watch him, as he slipped his hand out from beneath hers - almost uncomfortably - and grabbed her hand gently as possible, although his gentleness was certainly not what it used to be. He met her eyes, and raised her hand to his lips, and kissed it. His lips were dry. Renee smiled slightly, as he let her hand go. The smile he returned was so small that one who didn't know him well would just assume he wasn't smiling at all.

"I love you," his voice was raspy, and the words were clumsily spoken.

"I love you too," she replied. They were quiet for a moment, and then Renee decided to speak again. The silence was almost deafening. She hated it.

"Are you hungry?" she got to her feet, "I can go make you something. Toast maybe? Or I have cereal bars…"

"No," John shook his head. Seconds later he remembered to add, "Thank you anyway." It sounded robotic. Renee let out a small sigh and dropped back onto the couch once more.

John had been like this since he'd showed up on her doorstep on her birthday - and hadn't improved the slightest. It was if he had fallen into a deep antisocial stupor that was irreversible. He hated having to talk; he seemed uncomfortable being spoken to. Replying was difficult. His expression was cold, shutting out everyone, even her.

Luckily her parents came to visit her when John went in to sleep. She didn't tell them he was there in the house. She'd learned her mother had pointed him in the right direction of her house, and Harriet said that he seemed to be a relatively nice man. Renee told her that he just dropped by and left after about ten minutes, knowing that she would have to decide the perfect time for her and John to sit down with them and explain everything.

John certainly wasn't ready for that yet - and she wasn't going to make him uncomfortable by forcing him into it too early. But, John couldn't stay like this forever. He had to change - she was really beginning to worry about him.

It was now the third day he'd been with her and there were no signs of improvement - she thought that he would come to within the first 24 hours - but that time had came and went. John was still like a stranger to her. But, she wasn't going to lose hope for him - she knew that somewhere, deep down, beneath the battle hardened soldier he'd grown into, the John she had fallen in love with eighteen years ago was still in there… somewhere. It would take a good deal of fishing to haul it out of him. She was trying to be patient - but she couldn't understand why John was still being so withdrawn from her. He was home, he was with her, and the war was over. He could begin a new life now - the civilian life he could never have before. They could live normally, without any interruptions.

"John," she said, wringing her hands on her lap, "I know it must be hard for you. Incredibly hard… but I'm the one person who understands you. I don't understand why you are being like this. I'll listen to anything you have to tell me, you know that. I love you more than anything in this world, John. I'm here to love you and I'm here to help you, just as you are here for me. Our lives can finally resume! There's… there's no reason for you to be like this, for _us _to be like this. This silence between us… it's, it's, stupid. It's like I'm living with an alien instead of the man who has my heart! Talk to me John," she reached out and grabbed his hand, looking at his face pleadingly. He avoided direct eye contact, but she pressed him. "Please!"

"What do I possibly have to talk about?" John snapped, shooting her a cold look, and moved his hand away from hers as if he'd touched something scalding, "What, do you want to hear me tell you war stories like I'm some old veteran talking to his granddaughter? You want to hear the heroic tales of Master Chief, do you? Like everyone else on this planet! I came here thinking I would avoid the questions, avoid the interrogation, not have _you _demanding that I tell you war stories!"

The cold cynical tone threw Renee off. She stared at him in disbelief. It sounded exactly like it had in the video she seen of him attending the award service aboard the Cairo Space Station with Sergeant Johnson - only it was… harsher. And, he wasn't talking to Sergeant Johnson - he was talking to _her._

"No!" she shook her head, "No, John…I just want to try and understand! I want to help you, but I can't if I don't know what's bothering you!" She raised her voice a little, looking at him quizzically. John's eyes were very dark and piercing. He looked like he was going to explode. This _definitely_ wasn't the John she knew.

"Do you really have to wonder?" John was up on his feet in a second, fuming - instantly towering over her like a giant as she remained seated, "I killed, I saw countless of men and women die. _My _Spartans were massacred on Reach! Don't tell me Amy didn't fill you in on _those _details! They weren't rumors, you know!" He looked incredibly angry, distraught - his fists were clenched. For the first time, his face beheld _true _emotion - just not what emotion Renee wanted to see. He made a theatrical gesture to nothing with a sweep of his huge arm, "And _you _wonder what's bothering me?"

He was yelling now. The voice reminded her of her drill sergeant when she had been in the academy - only it was worse. She stared at him in disbelief, unwilling to accept this attitude.

"What's wrong with you!" Renee cried, feeling her heart pounding. She never imagined John would be angry at _her._ John let out a scoff, and turned his head to the side, staring a burning hole into the floor. She got to her feet, and he stepped back. "John!" she stubbornly followed, and reached towards him, to grab him by the forearms, but her fingers just brushed his skin - then she felt John's arm sweep out and come in contact with her chest in a violent shove. It was like being hit with a sledge hammer - the breath flew from her lungs. There was a brief sense of being airborne, then the next thing she knew she was lying on her side on the floor - almost out in the hallway.

Her mouth opened - and she struggled for a breath, which didn't come to her for a few seconds. When she finally gasped a lungful of air - her brain focused on the next important thing, understanding what just happened to her.

_John _had just shoved her to the floor.

She looked up at him with wide eyes, breathing heavily - feeling herself climbing the ladder to hysteria. Tears were prickling her eyes - but surprisingly she felt otherwise numb. It was like the time she had been hit in the face with a soccer ball when she was in high school. Her face had gone numb and she could only sit there in bewilderment until someone informed her that her mouth was bloody.

John was looking down at her with a horrified expression. Renee opened her mouth, struggling with words.

"What…" she began, forcing herself up onto her elbow, "You just…" she shook her head, "You just…"

"Renee, I'm sorry," John was beside her in a blur, he took her by the shoulders, but she cringed away from him. She brought her hands up by her face to shield herself, and John frantically continued, panicking "I'm sorry, I didn't mean it, I…"

He froze - the image of Renee flying across the room replaying itself in his mind. He had hit her; he had knocked the wind from her. He had _hurt _her. In self hatred and shock, he backed away from her, falling back onto his haunches, muttering

"What have I done."

Renee still wasn't looking at him. She stared at the floor - fighting back tears. Her throat was choking up. All she had wanted to do was to try and help John. She never, ever, expected him to lash out at her - and with such force. He was so powerful - he could kill her with the right flick of his wrist if he wanted to. Horrified, she glanced up at him - and saw his shocked face - detest written all over it. Detest for himself.

"This isn't you," she said, her voice breaking.

John continued to stare at nothing, his mouth agape - her words wracking him like punches. He heard her voice failing - she was crying, because of him.

"This isn't you, John," she repeated, shaking her head. Her eyes were blurring with tears. No. She wouldn't cry. She looked up to him - and his eyes met hers with sudden intensity. Her lip quivered. Silence. Suddenly, she screamed.

"This isn't the John I fell in love with!"

John jumped, startled at her voice. He saw her face crumpling - and something clicked in his head. There was an exchange of pained expression - and then they turned to their only comfort - each other. They met each other halfway in a hasty embrace. Their lips met in the most passionate kiss since John's return. Renee's arms went around John's neck, and she fell onto her back - and he came with her. They fumbled around for a few minutes - getting clothing out of the way, limbs becoming intertwined with limbs. Then, it was if they were taken back in time to the clearing on Reach, there and beyond. All frustrations were forgotten, hurt was replaced with pleasure, and for the first time in eighteen years, they were truly reunited.

"So, my wonderful friend, you're telling me you had hardcore make-up sex?" Amy's voice came through the phone. As usual, she was loud, she was obnoxious, and of course, she was vulgar.

Renee put her hand over the earpiece and took a glance to John's naked back - pale and littered with scars - turned away from her. She hoped he wouldn't be able to hear. They were both lying on the floor in the living room. John, as far as she knew, was asleep. She held the phone back to her ear.

"I hope your son isn't in the room." Renee said plainly. She had told Amy that she and John had just got in a quarrel - she wouldn't dare mention that John had hit her. It was accidental, and to them it was all fine now, but Amy certainly wouldn't understand. She wouldn't forgive John for such a thing, either.

"He's not, he's off playing outside," Amy answered quickly, bored with having to explain, "I don't talk like that in front of my son, dumb shit. Wayne's here though, giving me a what-the-fuck look."

"No wonder," Renee raised her eyebrows, hugging the housecoat closer around her, although she wasn't close to being cold.

"Yeah, whatever. Tell me more," Amy urged, "So does this mean John has finally come back to Earth? His body was here but his mind was off in another galaxy as far as I'm concerned."

"Hard to say," Renee replied, "But, you can't expect him to be completely the same John we knew before. I was dumb to think that. It'll take a while for him to get back to the John we were familiar with."

"Well, you're familiar with your favorite _part_ of him again, so it's all sunshine and daisies for you now, whore." Amy roared.

"You are ridiculous," Renee laughed slightly herself.

"Sure I am. Now tell me about _it_," Amy urged.

In the background, Wayne could be heard mumbling something about her "shoving her nose up people's asses too much". Amy just laughed at this.

"Sorry, hubby's an ass," she muttered, "Tell me. Or wait, I'll ask the questions, you can answer yes or no or maybe. Or, be creative. Question number one…"

Suddenly, Renee felt a presence, and she glanced to see John had turned to face her, and was leaning in close to the phone. With a surprisingly mischievous look in his eye, he snatched the phone out of Renee's hands, and put it to his ear - and clamped his hand over Renee's mouth, pushing her down beneath him. Renee didn't protest, she just started to giggle.

"Was John as good as before? How was he? Hope he didn't cripple you, you already had to learn to walk once." Renee could hear Amy's voice even without the phone to her ear. She snorted. John looked at her, then, he spoke into the phone, his dark eyebrows furrowing together. The expression on his face was completely composed.

"Broke two tables, smashed a window, and the couch is now in the hallway," he said in a low raspy voice. Renee bit her lip - looking around the room. There were no broken tables, smashed windows - but … the couch was a little to the left…

Based on this humorous creativity, she realized that the occurrences not long ago had softened John a little - took him by the hand and led him partially down the path to his old personality. But, he wasn't all the way there yet.

"What?" Amy could be heard demanding. She started to laugh, clearly confused. She proceeded cautiously, "Renee…?"

"Amy, stop." John was stern, "That's an order."

"JOHN?"

The scream Renee easily heard and she slapped John's hand away and started to laugh, shaking her head. Suddenly, she was awed and captured by John - as his face muscles loosened a little, and he chuckled from deep in his throat. She hadn't heard that chuckle in years.

"Hello," he said, clearly amused.

"What the hell!" Amy cried, "Did you kill my friend and steal the phone or what?"

"Not exactly."

"Force her to surrender the phone to you by means of sexual torture…?" it was an honest question, although she mumbled, "Don't think anything with you would be torturous, but anyway."

"No." John answered, looking to Renee and shaking his head in disbelief, then continued, "I do believe you have gotten exponentially worse. You need professional help, Mrs. Brown."

"No I don't!" There was pride in her voice, "It's a talent."

"Really." John wasn't convinced. The dull look on his face was almost comical.

"Yes!" She laughed, "So… how was it? I bet you feel like a million bucks. Come on, tell me!"

John was silent.

"Oh you're still the same!" Amy laughed, "Well I can guess it was better than shooting aliens and saving the universe from certain doom."

"Perhaps," John said, "Well, I hate phones. So, if you want to talk to me, come over sometime. I will talk to you later."

"Okay, go, have fun," Amy sniffed, but she laughed.

"Over and out." John didn't wait for a response; he flipped the phone shut and tossed it onto the glass coffee table with precision accuracy. Then he let out a sigh and rolled onto his back, turning his head so he was looking at Renee.

"First phone conversation completed." he said lowly. He somehow realized his fly was still down and he quickly pulled it up, then muttered, "Not used to clothes. MJOLNIR armor hasn't any zippers."

Renee couldn't help but smile at this. John's pants weren't fully pulled up around his waist - he hadn't bothered to put the belt back on. His chest heaved as he took a deep breath and exhaled in another sigh.

"Amy hasn't changed, has she?" Renee asked, rolling onto her stomach and picking at her fingernail.

"Not the slightest." John didn't sound amused, "You'd think she would."

"Sometimes change isn't the best thing," Renee told him quietly.

"Hm." he nodded his head once, looking around the room. Then his dark eyes met hers again, "I know that was a reference to me."

"I didn't mean…" Renee was quick to stammer.

"No, I understand." He interrupted almost instantly. He outstretched his arm to gently squeeze her shoulder comfortingly, "I understand completely. How are you feeling right now?"

"What?" Renee was thrown off by the sudden question - it was rather unexpected.

"How are you feeling right now?" John looked at her earnestly, "Are you happy?"

"Yes," she smiled, "I'm happy."

"Promise?" John asked.

"Mhm. How about you?"

"I'm happy if you are," John smiled ever so slightly, "I'm not quite used to anything yet, but I am happy."

"Good," Renee rolled onto her side, and she squirmed across the floor towards him and kissed him on the lips, noticing right away that John was relaxed. She broke from the kiss, but touched her forehead to his, "Let's get something to eat. And plan what we are going to do today. No more sitting around."

"Hm." It was a murmur of consent.

Suddenly, a beep sounded - and Renee looked down to John's pocket.

"Your data pad?" she questioned.

John sat up in a blur, and had the pad out of his pocket and in his hand in a moment. Renee quickly sat up and looked at the screen. She saw he had received a new text message. She looked to see who it was from - but it simply said a number code and "Cortana".

"Cortana?" Renee said the name out loud, making a face, and she looked to John, "Who's Cortana?"

"An AI," John answered quickly, "In 2552, we received new MJOLNIR armor and had our neural interfaces changed to accommodate the insertion of an AI crystal data chip into our helmets, right at the base of our skulls. This allowed the AI to work with our armor - and improve our overall performance. I received Cortana - and she has been with me since then… until I safely put her into Lord Hood's hands when I wanted to retreat to a normal life."

"Oh," was all Renee could say - and was quite amazed - this was the most she had heard John say all at once as of yet.

John nodded, and opened the message. He allowed Renee to read it over his shoulder. It said:

"_John, hope you are doing well. I assume you found ex Corporal Renee Kilburn of Wilshire avenue. Lord Hood sends his regards. We all miss you. Cortana."_

_"_She knows me?" Renee demanded.

"She's an AI," John smirked at her, "She has access to the military files."

"Oh, right." she nodded, "Where is Cortana?"

"In the UNSC Base in Florida," John replied.

"So, is she like Keira, from the _Hercules_?" Renee asked, "I'm getting an image of a bluish purple holographic lady."

"Yes although she's what they call a "smart" AI," John slipped his data pad back into his pocket, and he saw the confusion come across Renee's face. He didn't wait for her to ask, "That means she's more human than other AI's - and well, of course, smarter. She can do more than most others."

"That's neat," Renee remarked, "Hey, do you ever know what happened to the _Hercules_?"

"Just a second," John replied, taking out the data pad again, "Lord Hood has permitted me access to the military information," with a few flicks of his finger he found it, and read aloud, "It served in the Human-Covenant war from 2531 to 2550. Oh, it suffered severe damage in 2550 when it collided with another Halcyon class cruiser in a Slipspace miscalculation. It was decommissioned shortly thereafter." John looked up to Renee, "Had a lucky fate compared to most."

"Yes," Renee sighed, having fought in the time where ship-to-ship battle had been the most costly when it came to ships and lives lost. Even now, it was hard to accept that that had been eighteen years ago now, eighteen years ago that she had spent in an unresponsive coma.

Well, besides being a witness to Amy's wedding and to be supportive of when she had Troy, Renee had accepted that she wouldn't have missed much. But, then again, if she hadn't gone into the coma, they probably wouldn't have sent her and Amy home. She would've continued her campaign as a marine in the war - and who knows, could have been killed. Renee couldn't imagine being that lucky to survive eighteen years of fighting a Human-Covenant war.

That's what made John so renowned - he hadn't just fought eighteen years. He had fought every single year of the war since the day it had begun in 2525. It truly was a remarkable feat - a feat that was now honored by the citizens of Earth - but to them Master Chief was good as dead. MIA was his official status reinforced by Lord Hood, despite his known survival - but MIA usually didn't bring very positive thoughts to one's head. Oh, for example, Jimmy so-and-so was MIA. His family would be devastated and assume him dead. The same status was now accepted for John.

Renee, Amy, Wayne, Troy, Lord Hood, Cortana, and a few select people at the UNSC base in Florida were the only ones who knew of his secretive existence - which generally couldn't be revealed, since, there was nothing to recognize. To the public, John's face was absolutely uncertain. They didn't know his hair color, eye color, whether he was pale or tan, whether he even was Caucasian, and some probably debated whether he was even human.

"I never got to ask you this yet," Renee spoke up, "Are you really ready for a normal life?"

"I'm ready for anything, as long as I'm with you." John replied earnestly, and he reached forward and grabbed her hands, "You don't know how important you are to me."

"I can guess," she smiled.

"No, you can't even imagine," John shook his head, raising one hand to cup her face, "If I didn't have you - I probably wouldn't be alive right now."

"What do you mean?" Renee drew back with surprise.

"It's dark to say," John furrowed his brows, causing his eyes to appear darker than they actually were, "But, without you, I'd probably lapse into a state of psychological insanity. If I never met you, and if the war ended and I had no one to go to, I would probably kill myself."

"John!" Renee exclaimed, horrified at even the thought.

John chuckled, unbothered by the idea, his mouth wrenching into a half-grin.

"My skull might be tough," he knocked on his head with his knuckles, "But, even Spartans can't stand a shot to the head."

"Stop talking like that," Renee's voice was sharp - it had the essence of an order, "Stop it."

"Don't you see the point I'm trying to make?" John's voice grew soft, but sounded hoarser, like someone who had a throat infection, "Without you, I no longer serve a purpose. But you are the fuel to my fire, Renee." He glanced away from her, a distant look in his eyes, "There were many times, that I was so close to death, I could've reached out and…" he extended his hand at the air, his fingers grasping at nothing, "… touched it… but then," he looked up into her eyes again, "I remembered I had to stay alive. Because somewhere far away you were waiting for me to come back to you. I lived, I survived, every alien that I shot, it was so that I could end the war and come home to you. I want you to know that."

Renee, for a moment, was speechless. She simply smiled, and had to try very hard not to start crying in front of him. Nodding, she fell forwards onto his chest, and his huge arms encircled her in a supportive hug. She knew, that for as long as she was with John, that she would be happy. There was no one else for her, and no one else for him. They were each other's crutches; they kept each other on their feet.

Now more than ever.

John, now fully dressed, walked back into the living room from the kitchen, crossing the space in several long strides, to the phone that was persistently ringing on the table. Shoving the last of a cereal bar into his mouth and cramming the wrapper into his jeans pocket, he snatched up the phone in a blur and put it to his ear.

"Hello?"

"Hello?" an uncertain female voice replied, "Who is this?"

"John Bayle, ma'am," John straightened, leaning back to peek in through the doorway into the kitchen at Renee, who had gotten up from her seat at the kitchen table. Taking a sip of orange juice, she made a face and mouthed, "Who is it?"

John simply shook his head and turned his attention back to the woman on the phone.

"John Bayle, oh, yes, I remember," the woman said, "This is Renee's mother."

"Oh, how are you doing ma'am?" John forced more respect into his voice.

"Fine, thank you, and you?"

"Green, ma'am."

"Green?" Harriet echoed.

"Military lingo for good to go," John filled her in, "You wish to speak with Renee I suspect, ma'am?"

"Yes please."

"Hold on a moment."

John took the phone from his ear and crossed back into the kitchen. Renee set her drink down on the counter. John tossed the phone to her, and she caught it clumsily.

"It's your mother," John said lowly.

"Oh," Renee smiled, and she turned away from him, putting the phone to her ear, "Mom? Hi! How are you?… That's good, oh me, I'm fine…" she glanced to John, "Yes… he's come to visit again. Yes, Mom…. Yes. I know… he's been fighting for a while… not quite back in the groove of normality yet… oh, did you? Really? Are you now? When? Well… Amy said she might drop in later today, though I don't know yet when. Ok, alright. Talk to you later, Mom. Say hi to Dad. Ok. Love you too, bye."

Renee shut off the phone and turned to look at John with a grin.

"Mom's coming over to see me today," she looked sympathetic, "You don't mind?"

"No, not at all." John shrugged, "Why should I?"

"I didn't tell her you'd still be here when she arrived," Renee folded her arms on her chest, "To her, we're just friends… I don't know when it would be best for you… we eventually have to tell her the truth."

"I know," John gave a curt nod, "Not today."

"Alright," Renee was agreeable, "We have to plan that."

"Yes," John said, raising his eyebrows, "Most definitely. When is she coming?"

"Sometime after three," Renee said, "We got a while yet… so…"

"I'll be here," John confirmed, "I won't be sleeping this time."

"Are you sure you're ready?" Renee asked, "My mother is not Amy, that's for sure."

"How do I ever expect to try and recoup if I stay shut up in the bedroom?" John smirked wryly, "Which is not an entertaining place to be when you're not with me."

"I'm flattered," Renee tried her best to keep herself composed.

"Naturally," John raised his eyebrows, "You're blushing."

"When am I not?" she replied sheepishly.

Suddenly, John had her off the floor, and he practically dropped her onto the counter, shoving her head back into the cupboards with a fierce kiss. With his hands he guided her legs apart and undid the sash of her housecoat.

"This can work," he said huskily in her ear, when he wasn't kissing her neck, "We don't have to worry about moving any furniture. This counter seems pretty solid."

"John…" Renee started, but he silenced her with a kiss. She still didn't give up, next breath of air she said, "We just…" but another kiss from him shoved all thoughts of thinking this was a bad idea completely out of her mind.

Luckily, they didn't begin anything too serious when a familiar voice tore through the air - mixed with laughter.

"Aren't you two busy little bees."

John and Renee instantly broke apart to see Amy standing in the kitchen doorway. They hadn't even heard her come in. Her fiery red hair was piled into a frizzy mess on the top of her head, her green eyes wide with surprise.

Renee hurried to fix her housecoat, and John quickly had his zipper back up with a blur. He looked very pained to be interrupted.

"Amy!" Renee cried, jumping down off the counter, running her fingers through her tousled hair, "What are you doing here?"

"I told John I'd be over," Amy grinned, and she looked to John, "Using the counter - great idea." she winked at him, "Lucky I left Troy in the car, he was spared this unfolding scene. Didn't you guys just shag like, a half hour ago?"

John and Renee exchanged weary glances.

"Have you come here to interrogate us or to visit?" Renee answered, smiling slightly.

"Well, since the first option doesn't sound very welcomed, I guess I've come for the latter," Amy shrugged, clapping her hands together and gestured out to the front door that she had casually left open, "Is it safe for my son to come in? No more hanky panky happening?"

"All clear," John said, although he didn't sound particularly amused.

"Ok," Amy smiled, and she walked out into the hallway and poked her head out the door, "Come in, Troy!" she called.

A few seconds later, Amy's son came walking into the house, his hands shoved in his pockets. He had visible sunburn, and it had only succeeded in making his freckled face worse. The freckles seemed to have multiplied. He walked past Amy and trudged into the kitchen. He raised his hand and waved to Renee first, then to John.

"Hey, what's up?" he looked back to Renee, clearly more comfortable talking to her than to John.

"Nothing much, Troy," Renee smiled at him, "Anything new with you?"

"Not really," Troy shrugged, "Bought a new video game yesterday."

"Did you?" she answered, "What kind of a game?"

"A war game," Troy grinned, "It lets you do what you and Mom did. You're a marine and you're fighting Covenant."

John's face hardened.

"They're making _games _out of the war?" he said lowly, clearly offended.

Renee glanced to him, and she touched his arm lightly. Troy turned to look at him, studying his face bravely.

"It's really awesome, John," Troy beamed, not catching on to John's tone, "It's almost real. Mom didn't want to be in the room when I was playing it. It's like the Covenant are really there." He paused, disappointed that his words didn't alter John's facial expression; "You should come over and play it sometime! I could show my friends. I bet you would be the best at it!"

"Troy, honey," Amy leaned down to her son's ear, "I don't think John wants to be fighting anything, whether it's in a game or not. The war is a touchy subject."

"Oh," Troy nodded, and he looked up to John, "Sorry."

"It's fine," John gave him a little smile, "I'd be up for a game of gravball sometime, though - if they still play it. I haven't played that game since I was younger than you."

"Really?" Troy looked amazed that John spoke more than two words to him, "You'd _really _play gravball with me?"

"Yeah, sure," John's tone lifted, he sounded actually excited, "Anytime you're bored, I'm not far away."

Renee looked to John, then down to Troy's enthralled face, and then up to Amy - who looked amazed. The two girls watched as John walked into the living room with Troy, on the subject of gravball.

Amy walked up to Renee, as they turned to follow them, and leaned into her ear,

"You work miracles! He's totally opened up!" Amy grinned, "Good job!"

"He's not quite there yet, but he's trying," Renee watched John as he sat down onto a chair so he'd be more at eye-level with Troy, his lips flying as he spoke. It was like he was young again - his entire face had lit up - he was even using hand gestures. Troy was listening eagerly, clearly loving the fact that his role model was giving him _advice._

"That's so awesome!" Amy and Renee heard Troy exclaim as they walked into the room.

"But, after that, the other kids wouldn't let me play," John chuckled, "I think they were sore losers myself. I wasn't a Spartan then, I was just better. And I love to win. After that it was just King of the Hill for me mostly. But, that was alright - kept me entertained."

"I love to win too," Troy grinned, "But, I'm not super good at King of the Hill. There's this one guy that always beats me."

"For King of the Hill, it's your leg strength, upper body strength and balance," John said, "It's all how you stand. For instance," he stood up, stick straight, arms to his side, "If you were to shove me right now, I'd fall pretty easy, right?"

"I couldn't knock you over!" Troy exclaimed.

"Pretend I'm not Master Chief for a second," John tousled his hair, "I'm a boy your age, about your size. You could shove me over pretty easy like this."

"Yeah," Troy nodded.

"But, if I were to stand like this," John spread his feet out, one in front of the other, and crouched a little, bringing his arms up as if he was in a fight, "Not so easy to approach is it?"

Troy shook his head.

"You see, it distributes your weight and balance, so the guy would come at you, and you stand like how I am, and lean into his attack," John demonstrated as he spoke, his expression serious, "Don't cower - look him right in the eye. You got the upper hand. He tries to shove you, but is surprised when you don't move - and this throws him off balance - only for a short moment - and it's this moment that you make your attack. He'll go rolling."

"That's wicked!" Troy exclaimed, imitating John's stance, "Like this?"

"Just like that," John said, nodding, "There you go. You'll be King that way."

"Thanks!" Troy and John both straightened again. John raised his hand to Troy, and they high-fived.

Renee and Amy, meanwhile, could only watch in amazement.

"He's so great with kids!" Amy shook her head, and looked to Renee, "He'd be an excellent father. The coolest Dad ever!"

Renee just laughed - enjoying seeing John interact with Troy. It was incredibly cute.

"Can I ask you something?" Troy asked.

"Shoot," John said..

Troy raised an invisible gun and pulled the trigger.

"Bang!"

John clutched his chest theatrically, groaning.

"He got me!" he announced, rolling his eyes back into his head, and he slumped to the floor and was motionless. Renee and Amy burst out laughing. Troy was kind of unsure, and he looked down at John as he didn't move.

"You couldn't die from that!" Troy laughed, "Get up."

John opened his eyes and laughed, getting back to his feet.

"What's your question?" he looked down at Troy.

"Can you teach me how to fight?" Troy grinned, throwing a couple of punches at John jokingly.

"The guys after your girl or what?" John made a face, and he looked to Amy and Renee and winked.

"I don't have a girl!" Troy exclaimed.

"Not yet?" John asked.

"No," Troy scoffed.

"No pretty girls in your class?"

"No." Troy rolled his eyes.

"Well, when you get a girlfriend that's the envy of the other guys, come and ask me that question again," John chuckled, "Besides, you don't want to be fighting."

Troy shrugged.

"I can teach you _something _though," John raised his eyebrows.

"What's that?" Troy was excited again.

"Did you ever hear of a Spartan Smile?"

**A/N: **First chapter is complete - and wracking in just over 7000 words, I think it's a pretty good start. At first I wasn't quite sure where to head with this, but then I was motivated after I did a bit of brainstorming. Next chapter will include more of John's improvement, a friendly meeting with Renee's mother and perhaps venturing out into the city. I hope you enjoyed the first chapter of this long-awaited sequel! - AB.


	2. Interactions

**Chapter 2: Interactions**

**August 2****nd****, 2553 - Los Angeles, CA - USA**

It was a relatively difficult task for Amy to try and get Troy away from John and back into the car when it came time for them to leave. After having taught Troy the Spartan Smile, John continued to talk to him eagerly, the two of them seated on the floor cross-legged facing each other. Amy and Renee were equally wowed, normally it was Troy who would be talking the ear off someone, but in this case, it was John. He just wouldn't shut up. She and Amy had talked between themselves for a while, turned and looked back into the living room, and saw they were _still _talking. This process took place several times, until finally; Amy got to her feet and walked into the living room.

"Hate to interrupt, men," Amy declared as John stopped talking and they both looked up to her, "But Troy, you've got soccer practice in an hour. You have to go home and get your gear, have a shower and eat something."

"I can skip practice," Troy shrugged, rather calmly, "Tell them I'm hanging out with Master Chief."

"Troy…" Amy's voice grew stern.

"You'd better go, kid," John tilted his head sympathetically, and he gestured towards the door, "I've seen your mom get mad. We can talk later, promise. Today isn't the end of the world."

Troy sighed in defeat, "Yeah, ok," then he smiled before getting to his feet, "Thanks for actually talking, John."

John smiled genuinely.

"You're welcome, kid."

Troy jumped to his feet and brushed past Amy out into the kitchen to say his goodbyes to Renee. John sighed, and was up on his feet in a blur. He saw Amy was looking at him with a big smile on her face.

"What?" John asked, his voice going back to its normal hoarseness as his facial expression shut down to a plain one that didn't really express anything.

"Thank you," Amy shook her head in disbelief, "You're really coming back. I wasn't worried, you know." She shrugged, and reached out and punched him gently in the arm, "I knew you'd snap to."

John simply nodded, although he knew he wasn't fully "back" yet. It had taken all of his effort to appear as joyful and energetic as he had been with Troy, but the kid deserved it. Despite how many times he had to smile largely and laugh, John didn't feel genuine. He really had laughed, he really had smiled, but it felt like he was still distant from the world. Like he wasn't here.

John reached out and nudged Amy's arm with his fist, his equivalent to her punch she'd given him, his mouth quirked up into a half grin.

"Don't start a fight with me, Master Chief," Amy grinned, "I may be a thirty-eight year old mom, but can totally kick your ass."

John just simply looked at her with a tiny "you-could-not-and-you-know-it" grin on his face.

"Yeah, well, I'd better go," Amy raised her eyebrows, "I'll talk to you later. Glad you're back, I'll call you, okay?"

"I don't quite like phones yet," John replied wryly.

"Get used to it, you'd better answer when I call," Amy walked back into the kitchen, John following, where Troy was waiting in the doorway heading out into the hallway. Renee looked from Amy to John.

"Don't let John tell you what to do," Amy declared, gesturing with her thumb at the towering man behind her, "You're the boss. Women rule, don't give him any slack just because he was off fighting a little longer than we were, ok?" It was a joke, although she was able to remain pretty serious.

"Whatever, Amy," Renee grinned, watching John as he crossed over to the cupboard where he pulled out another cereal bar. His biceps bulged from beneath the thin fabric of the t-shirt he was wearing. He looked like if he would move the wrong way, he'd bust right out of it. He glanced out of the corner of his eye at her, his black eyes carrying more emotion than she'd seen in a while. It was slightly muted though – but she was able to understand what he was thinking at the moment.

"So, we'll see you later," Amy said, as Troy walked into the hallway.

"See you John!" Troy called.

"Likewise," John called back with a mouthful of food. He had to put his hand to his mouth to avoid crumbs falling on his shirt. For once, he made a clumsy move. Renee found it cute.

They said their goodbyes, and then the front door was closed and the house was once again quiet. Renee let out a little sigh and leaned back against the kitchen table, regarding John with relative amazement. He finished off the cereal bar in two bites and tossed the wrapper dead-on into the trash can – then looked to her, folding his arms on his chest.

"You honestly surprised me," Renee declared, "You have no idea how made Troy's day by just talking to him like you did."

"I have an idea," John replied quietly with a little roll of his shoulders, "I said I'll try my best to improve. What's my grade for the first mission?"

"It was a success," she smiled.

"Yeah?" John asked.

"You truly came alive," Renee told him.

"I truly came alive on the living room floor," John shrugged, not at all fazed, "That woke my senses. Started me up, key in the ignition, green to go, you know?"

Renee knew she was blushing again, but she smiled again, shaking her head.

"Well… I'm glad the John I know is here now," she said softly.

John let out an inaudible sigh. Why did she and Amy think that so quickly? He could smile and laugh, joke and play, but that didn't mean he was alright. Just like a person with the flu could do all of those things, but still be sick on the inside.

"Want to pick up where we left off?" John's gaze was intensifying, desperate for anything to soothe this sudden uncertainty that was overwhelming him.

"Amy walking in on us was one thing, but don't forget my mother's coming." Renee said softly, shaking her head.

"Oh, right," John exhaled, raising his eyebrows and running his fingers through his short hair, "Another thing I have to go through, almost too much for one day."

"You don't have to do this," Renee shook her head, "If you're not up for it, you can just do like you did last time. You can immerse into civilian life at your own pace, don't feel like I'm pushing you forward. Take your time, John."

"No, I'll do this," John narrowed his eyes, "You're mother won't be as easy to entertain as Troy, but she seems relatively acceptable. In general, what is her opinion of me?" By "me" he meant Master Chief. The alias Harriet didn't know he was.

"I don't know," Renee shrugged, "She didn't mention much…" she trailed off, and suddenly looked up at him, "The picture!"

"What picture?" John was alert.

"The one on the mantel," Renee gestured into the living room, "Of you, Amy, Troy and me. When I first woke up from my coma, Amy had showed the picture to them… and told them it was Master Chief. Do you think she would recognize your face?"

"She didn't when I showed up on her doorstep," John said, "Besides, we will trust her with my true identity eventually anyhow. She's your mother. I don't think she'd go running off and tell the news."

"You're right," Renee exhaled, "I just don't want anyone to find out who you are. That's the last thing you'd need, reporters shoving mics, cameras and data pads in your face asking you questions."

"Only a handful of people know my face. And none of them would say anything to anyone. There is no possibility of anyone finding out who I really am," John answered calmly, "Even Troy knows better than to tell his school friends about me."

"They found your armor on the ship you came to Earth on," Renee said.

"And it was taken into secure UNSC custody, Cortana told me that," he wasn't worried. He crossed the kitchen and took her into a gentle embrace and kissed the top of her head, "Please, don't worry about me. No one will find out anything."

"But they know you're alive now," Renee protested, "You don't think they'll keep an eye out for any abnormally tall, pale, scarred up muscular guys?"

"To anyone I could be an ODST," John shrugged, "Those guys are big, too."

"Not like Spartans," Renee smiled slightly, "Do you know how many 6'10" men I know? One and that's you." She reached up to tap him on the nose with her finger. He flinched slightly – but he chuckled.

"Sorry, reflex," He muttered, half grinning.

"You're not at all worried that someone might spot you out in a crowd?" Renee pressed, raising her eyebrow quizzically.

"Civilian accusations don't faze me the slightest," John made a face, "Although, I wish I could be more like Fred."

"Fred?" she echoed.

"Fellow Spartan," John muttered, "MIA along with Kelly, Linda and the Doctor. He was the most average looking of all of us. He could fit into a crowd easily and no one would really think him different."

"Oh," Renee nodded thoughtfully, "So, Kelly, Linda, Fred and Dr. Halsey _could _still be alive?"

"Possibly, although all Spartans, even those killed on Reach are listed as MIA to enforce the belief that Spartans never die. So it's hard to know whether they are actually missing in action or if they're dead."

"What do you think?" she asked him softly.

"I haven't given up on them," John exhaled, turning away and walking into the living room. He moved almost robotically, and sat down rigidly in a chair. Renee followed him and sat down on the couch, meeting his eyes.

"I hope they are alive, for your sake," she told him, "So you're not alone."

"I'm not alone," John focused on something past her, then met her eyes again, "I have you, and Amy, Troy, Wayne. And, if things go well, your parents."

"But we can't easily relate to you, John. Admit it. Not even me. I don't have much idea of what you went through. Amy, well, she watched TV…"

"The news is full of shit," John scoffed, his remark somewhat surprising, "They dramatize everything and make it look glorious. There _was _nothing glorious about the war, you know that much."

"Hm." She subtly nodded.

"You can relate to me in that aspect. You were a marine, you fought. It's not like you're one of those clueless reporters," John smirked.

"I wish I could relate to you completely," she said softly.

"No you don't."

"But I…"

"Trust me. You don't want to relate to anything that happened during the past two years. It wasn't just the Covenant wanting to destroy humanity; it became much more complex than that. It was crazy; it was like someone in an insane asylum would think up…." John trailed off, and shook his head.

"When the Covenant attacked Earth the first time," Renee said thoughtfully, "I was still recovering from my coma. I could barely walk. I remember they had to transfer all the patients from the hospital to an underground bunker … and I remember sitting there in a wheelchair… looking around at everyone else who thought they'd be safe. I remembered Lacerta, I remembered Capricornia, I remembered Hydra – and realized, if the Covenant wanted to destroy Earth, there was nothing we could do to stop them. And that bunker would've been vaporized in two seconds. There was this one girl, who had been in the hospital for anorexia, and she kept laughing about the Covenant being here. I felt so alone, like I was the only one who knew the truth, what could actually happen." Renee laughed lightly at it, her voice ringing out in the room, "I mean, I was the one who had been in coma due to the after effects of being shot by a Covenant Elite! I watched one of my best friends die right in front of me from plasma wounds…" she looked down at her feet, the smile fading from her face as she recalled Troy Fisher, "So, I guess I know what you're feeling. Practically no one has a clue, and you're the one who's been through it all and knows the truth. Though, for you, it's just not a bunker full of hospital patients – it's the whole world."

John closed his eyes and remembered watching Troy Fisher getting struck with the plasma beams, Renee screaming hysterically. A shiver ran down his spine. He'd seen many marines die the exact same way after that, and he almost lost Linda to the same exact form of attack.

"You've heard of the Flood?" he asked lowly.

"Yes," Renee whispered, remembering seeing a shaky video that aired only once on the news during the second attack on Earth – of greenish brown deformed monsters roaming throughout the cities of Africa. Their skin looked rotting and corroded, and they had all sorts of tentacles, tumor-like attachments and flailing limbs, and made low gurgling noises. The little jelly-fish like forms danced across the ground, making inhuman chirping squawks. It had been like something from a horror film.

"I almost became one of them," John's voice was low, his expression dark, "It was when I was on Installation 04. One of the infection forms came at me from behind – and latched onto the back of my neck. Its tentacles broke right through the suit and started digging into my neck, trying to reach my spinal cord. That's how they take over their victims." He looked up to see Renee's face had grown pale, her eyes wide with disbelief, but he continued, "I still have the scar."

He waited, but she was speechless.

"I'm sorry if I frightened you," he said instantly.

"No, you've just made it easier to understand," Renee finally said, her voice small. She'd always feared John being shot or stabbed with an energy sword, but never thought about him being infected by the Flood – transforming into one of those growling, deformed creatures she'd seen on the news.

"That's how Captain Keyes died," John continued, his expression looking almost pained, "Anyone who dies by the hand of the Covenant has better luck tenfold. Death by the Flood is slow and torturous. They slowly take over your mind and body. Death by plasma at least is quick. If you don't die instantly, you feel some pain, then you bleed out, grow numb and it's over. But, for the Flood to get a hold of you…" he trailed off.

Renee had grown numb herself listening to John's stories. She'd never expected for him to open up like this to her so quickly – if at all. Just a couple of hours ago, he had shoved her to the ground in anger just because she'd inquired about his experiences. Now, he was telling her things freely that made the hair stand up on the back of her neck – made Goosebumps prickle her arms.

"Nothing about that war was a game," John said in a monotone voice, "Not one minute."

Renee had nothing to say to this. After a moment, he declared:

"At least it's over now."

"Yes." She nodded curtly, "its over."

"Perhaps now it will be easier for you to understand… if some days I just don't… feel up to anything." John chose his words carefully, "I still get so many flashbacks – whether they're just maybe a second or two… but they impair me. But… interacting with others, like how I talked with Troy today… or… making love to you… that made me forget about it, even if it was just for a little while, I felt closer to normality."

Renee bit her lip.

"Whatever works, John," she smiled slightly, "Just let me know if you want to go out or talk to someone, okay?"

He nodded.

"Thank you for understanding." It was almost a whisper.

Suddenly, a knock sounded on the door.

"That's Mom!" Renee declared, shooting up from the couch, "And I'm still in my housecoat…" but she headed towards the door.

"Renee." John said.

She paused and looked back at him.

"Go get dressed. I can answer it."

"Are you sure?" Renee asked.

"Yes, go."

She seemed hesitant at first, but rushed off. John heard the knocking again, and he quickly walked out through the kitchen and to the hallway where he opened the door in a split second. Renee's mother, Harriet, jumped at the abrupt motion of the door flying open – and looked even more surprised when she saw it wasn't her daughter answering it.

"Oh, hello…" Harriet said awkwardly, looking up at him, "Mr. Bale isn't it?"

"Yes, ma'am," John gave her a warm smile, "Renee's just getting dressed, she'll be out in a moment. Come in."

Harriet seemed almost cautiously hesitant but she came in, taking her shoes off and following John into the living room, watching as his head came perilously close to hitting the top of the doorframe.

"I never noticed, you certainly are tall, Mr. Bale." Harriet declared, sitting down on the edge of the couch, watching him as he sat down across from her in the chair.

"Family inheritance, I suppose." John answered, smiling slightly, "And please, call me John."

So, far, he thought, it was good. She seemed positive enough.

"John," Harriet sounded out the name, "That's right, you told me to call you that before, didn't you?"

He nodded.

"You knew Renee in the war," she recalled, "And Amy as well?"

"And Troy Fisher," John nodded.

"Yes, Troy," Harriet looked momentarily sad, "He was only young, he didn't deserve that death. He and Renee were always close. Amy named her son after him, as you may already know."

"Yes," John replied, "I got to meet him on Renee's birthday. He's a nice boy."

"He is," Harriet agreed, glancing around the room, "I'm glad you're here for Renee, John. She seems happier now that you're here."

"We are good friends," John said, feeling strange to tell a lie, "I didn't see her for eighteen years, but now that I'm with her and Amy again things are starting to feel normal."

"It's hard to believe you fought in the war that long," Harriet told him, "You must've been good at…" she struggled with the words, "Killing those creatures."

"I did what I had to do to survive," John shrugged, "If there were aliens and you had gun, what would you do?" It was a rhetorical question.

"I wouldn't know how to shoot one," Harriet laughed, and John allowed himself to chuckle. Harriet's talking lightly of the war couldn't be blamed. She was one of those people he and Renee had been talking about earlier: the ones that hadn't experienced the war for themselves, thus being unable to relate.

"Understandable, ma'am," John nodded.

"Did you hear of that Spartan? Master Chief isn't it?"

The question made John alert. He studied Harriet's face for any pre-hints that could tell him her opinion of the Spartans.

"Yes."

"Renee, Amy, and Troy all knew him," Harriet was up off her feet, and headed towards the mantel. John thought of it at the same time she said it, "There's a picture here of them… they all look happy."

"Ma'am…" John shot to his feet. At the same moment, Renee entered the room, dressed casually in a pair of jean capris and a halter top. Although her face was calm even as she saw the unfolding scene, and that was explained when Harriet said a moment later, "Oh, it's not here. You must've seen it anyways," she turned back to see Renee had entered the room, "Oh, hello."

"Hey Mom," Renee replied, glancing momentarily to John, who exhaled a breath. He knew that Renee must have moved the picture. He gave her a faint smile that he knew Harriet wouldn't be able to pick up. She returned it. Then she looked back to her mother again, "You've met my friend John?"

"Yes," Harriet replied, and the atmosphere noticeably relaxed and they retreated back to their seats. However, John sat beside Renee on the couch and Harriet took the chair. Renee thought for a moment that John's closeness to her might be obvious, but she knew that if her mother suspected anything, she would be probably thrilled.

Perhaps, she decided with a sideways glance to John, it was what he wanted. He'd surprised her a lot today, and something about him signaled he wasn't quite done. How he was going to surprise her, however, was the question. John had said that he wasn't up for telling Harriet that he was Master Chief, but he technically never had said anything about not telling her about their relationship.

There was some awkward silence occurring, Renee realized as she snapped from her thoughts. For once, her mother was quiet, looking down at her nails. She glanced back up to her and gave her a smile.

"Is there something going on here you want to tell me?" she asked, and Renee was utterly surprised.

"What do you mean?" Renee retorted, knowing she sounded startled. She forced herself to smile, "Mom, you're going senile. You came to visit _me_."

"Just to say hello, but you never told me John would be here," Harriet laughed slightly at her daughter's joke, and glanced to John – with what, he perceived to be a pretty welcoming expression.

"Well, he just stayed longer than expected," Renee shrugged, "We have a lot of catching up to do. And he also said that he'd like to meet you – again."

"Properly this time," John added with a smirk, "Instead of knocking on your door demanding the whereabouts of your daughter."

Harriet surprisingly chuckled.

"Well you seem to be a fine man, John," Harriet gave him a little nod, "And like I told him before," she glanced to Renee, "You are noticeably happier. You have been since your birthday."

"I have everyone now, I suppose," Renee shrugged, "Amy, Wayne, Troy, you and Dad, and now John. I can feel comfortable now that he's back. We haven't seen each other since 2535."

"I feel the same," John agreed.

"Have you any family, John?" Harriet questioned.

"No," John replied rather flatly, "They're dead."

"Oh, I'm so sorry," Harriet put her hand to her mouth.

"I didn't know them well," he assured her, "I've been in the UNSC almost my entire life."

Renee glanced at John, thinking that was a statement teetering on the edge of being related to the Spartans, but she calmed herself down. John knew what he was doing.

"No offense to you personally, but, I couldn't understand how a person could be able to do that," Harriet told him, "Didn't you want to pursue a normal life, instead of spending it fighting those horrible aliens?"

"I had my duty, ma'am. I couldn't be able to stand living a normal life while others fought for me. And besides, I can start my normal life now. It's not too late," John answered calmly.

"Well I suppose we won the war because of committed men and women like you. But at least you weren't like the Spartans, like Master Chief," Harriet glanced to Renee then back to John, "Rumor has it that they were kidnapped and forced into brutal training! They were only children, and they wouldn't let them go home. I read that in a magazine somewhere. Apparently that's why they call them Spartans, because the people of Sparta in ancient times did the same thing to their children – make them into warriors."

Renee glanced up to John and had to ignore the burning impulse to reach over and grab his hand. However, he looked relatively composed, his calm expression barely altering.

"The Spartans aren't warriors, ma'am." John told her, "They were humans who were given their duty, and swore to protect Earth and her Colonies from the Covenant. They did as they were told, didn't question orders, gave their lives freely for the sake of others, for the lives of other people they didn't even know. Like the marines, they gave their lives so that others could be free and live a time of peace."

Harriet was quiet for a moment, and so was Renee. She watched her mother carefully – knowing that she was doing some heavy thinking. Suddenly she looked up to John, and surprisingly questioned him:

"Tell me, what rank were you in the UNSC?" she glanced to Renee, "I know you were a Corporal, is that right?" Renee nodded, and looked to John, wondering what his answer would be. Perhaps he might pick a rank of Sergeant, or even a Lieutenant…

"Master Chief Petty Officer SPARTAN-117, ma'am." John replied – and Renee whipped around to look at him in disbelief. Had he just lost his mind? She knew her mouth was hanging open, but she made no attempt to close it. She looked back to Harriet and saw her expression was mirrored on her mother's face.

There was a moment of dead silence. John didn't move, he didn't even blink – he just looked to Harriet, waiting for a response. Harriet began to laugh,

"That's a good one," she beamed, but the smile faded as soon as it came – as she watched John's expression go unchanged. "That's impossible." Her voice was small, and she looked from Renee back to John, "So… you…" Harriet struggled, her voice some-what far off. She actually raised her finger to point at him, her face contorting into an almost amusing expression, "You are…"

"Master Chief, yes." John gave a curt nod of his head, and he proceeded to be cynically humorous, "Back from the dead, sitting in your daughter's living room."

Renee couldn't believe what she was hearing – but suddenly she started to laugh. Holding her stomach, she doubled over and continued to laugh, her hair falling in her face. Harriet's expression was rather uncertain – she looked from John to Renee and back again; clearly unsure if this was a big joke being played on her or if it was the truth.

John smiled broadly, showing his teeth, and turned to look at Renee, whose eyes were wide – at first she didn't smile, but it was contagious. Renee whipped around to dig down into the contents of the couch, and she pulled out the framed picture she had quickly stashed when John wasn't looking and held it out to Harriet.

"The proof's there," Renee said as her mother took the picture. She took one look at it and then back up to John, and she shook her head.

"I have no idea what's going on anymore," Harriet simply said.

"We have a lot to tell you," Renee and John replied together wearily.

- - -

When it was all explained, there wasn't much Harriet could do but just sit there and nod. Renee and John had equal turns explaining their story that had originally begun eighteen years before. Of course, they left out some details, but when it was done – each of them felt lighter. Renee at first wasn't sure what was wrong with John – she hadn't been expecting him to come forward with any information, let alone blurting out who he really was, especially when he ironically said he wasn't ready for it just hours ago – but she went along with him. And it was true, they felt better when it was all told and it was all out.

John had been nervous, but he could tell that Harriet wasn't a person would flip out. If she was going to have any form of hysterical explosion, it would have been when he first told her he was Master Chief. She listened eagerly, and surprisingly looked happy when he and Renee both announced the most important part of their story – the fact that they were in love with each other.

John had professionally ended the tale with a polite but serious:

"What I have told you is confidential – for now."

To which Harriet numbly nodded with an:

"Of course."

There was an advantage to all of Harriet's news watching and magazine reading. She knew the story of Master Chief and she knew how important it would be to keep his existence a secret. John could even sense a little of intimidation radiating from her – it was noticeable. Well, he hadn't met someone who he'd told "I'm Master Chief" and had them not bat an eye. But for most people over the years, it wasn't required. They knew well enough who he was. But now it was different – he wasn't wearing MJOLNIR armor.

Given a couple of minutes though, Harriet suddenly came alive.

"Well, I am happy for you, both of you," she said, clearly thinking her words over, "Well, Renee, I guess you won't have to worry about anything happening to you with Master Chief as your protector…" she looked to John, "You must know how clumsy she is."

"I'd say I'm one of the most familiar," John answered, "Have you know I leaped out of a Pelican to save her life when she accidentally fell out of it."

"There is a lot you didn't tell me!" Harriet looked dumbfounded at her daughter.

"We've got a lot of time, Mom," Renee shrugged, "But if it weren't for John, I wouldn't be alive."

She reached over and John took her hand immediately without even having to look down.

"So, we can trust you with the secrecy," John asked Harriet, all business, "You and a select others are the only ones aware of my existence. If I have any hopes for a normal life, it has to stay that way, you can understand that right?"

"Yes, of course," Harriet replied, "I won't tell anyone – for the sake of your happiness," she smiled, "Besides, I don't want any reporters asking me what it's like to have my daughter in a relationship with Earth's Greatest Hero."

"That's a new one," John remarked with a smirk, "They keep cookin' 'em up."

"You don't know how well known you are, do you?" Harriet questioned, "You're the role model of probably every human child! There's always something about you. They have monuments all over the place dedicated in your honor. Although, there is some talk of you being alive – which, now I know isn't a rumor. They found your… suit, or whatever it is."

"I wouldn't worry too much about that," John was indifferent about everything she just said, "I told Renee this today, the armor was taken into UNSC custody and is in good hands. Besides, it's only a shell. The person they want is missing. And I'm not going to show up – at least recognizably. No one here in Los Angeles knows the Master Chief is living among them. That's the way I like it."

"You don't want any recognition for your duties? Not even a medal?"

Renee and John couldn't help but laugh at this.

"I have every single medal capable of being awarded," John told her, "Except the POW. I don't want any recognition. It was my duty as a Spartan to defend Earth. I completed the duty. That simple. I don't understand why everyone is so crazy about me."

"People need a hero to look up to," Renee answered quietly, looking indifferently at her hands as she wrung her fingers, twisting them around and around in different ways, "And like it or not, John. You _are _a hero."

"Agreed," Harriet said, and with a sigh, she got to her feet, looking rather jittery. She made a face, "Well, I should be going, Renee. Your father must be wondering where I am – plus I need some time to think over all this information that's just been dropped on me."

"I… well the original plan was that we were going to tell you later," Renee explained, she and John getting to her feet as well, "But John suddenly decided to spill everything!" she gave him a funny look. He just raised his eyebrows and looked at Harriet again – and extended his hand to her, "I look forward to seeing you again, ma'am."

Harriet looked hesitantly at his outstretched hand, but she reached forward and shook it – smiling.

"Yes," she replied almost nervously, "I… I can tell Jack right? Renee's father?"

"Yes," John nodded curtly, "But no one else."

"Okay, good," Harriet sighed, "I have to talk to _someone_."

Renee led Harriet towards the door, but she gestured to John to stay back. He didn't question her actions and sat back down on the couch, although he knew he would be able to hear everything Renee said even this far away. Sometimes he didn't care for his Spartan hearing.

Once Renee and her mother were out in the hallway, Renee took her mother by the shoulders. The two women were about the same height. Looking seriously at her, Renee said in a low whisper:

"Do you really approve?"

"I don't know what to think at the moment," Harriet kept her voice low, shaking her head.

"You like John, don't you?"

"He seems nice – but are you sure he's _safe_? If all those things I read about Spartans being inhumanly strong are true…"

"He shook your hand!" Renee noted, "Is your hand broken?"

"He had a very firm grip," Harriet said, looking down at her hand, "It was tense."

"John is nothing but gentle with me, Mom," she told her, "I promise you. He's an entirely different person with me. It's true he's strong, but he would never hurt me."

"He seems socially awkward," Harriet lowered her voice even more.

"Wouldn't you be if you've been killing aliens all your life?" Renee pointed out desperately, "Mom, he's seen and done things we can't even begin to imagine."

"Then is he even mentally stable?" she demanded.

"He's recovering," Renee answered calmly, "He's slowly coming back to normal. Don't worry about us, please."

"You really love him?" Harriet asked finally, a look of bewilderment flashing across her face.

"Yes! With all my heart and soul, I love him. And he loves me just as much."

"Well," Harriet was thoughtful for a moment, and then she finally gave her daughter a hug, "If you are happy, I will be happy for you. That's what I want you to be."

"Thank you," Renee squeezed her slightly, "Thank you so much for understanding."

"I'm trying my best." Harriet broke from the hug. She gave her daughter a little smile, and then they exchanged good-byes. When the door was closed, Renee turned around to head back into the living room, but John was right there – almost touching her when she turned around. She jumped, startled.

"John!" she almost shrieked.

"Sorry," John muttered, "I thought you knew I was coming up behind you."

"Are you kidding? You've spent the last eighteen years sneaking up on Covenant and you think I could hear you coming?" Renee laughed slightly.

"I'll be sure to give a warning next time then," John joked, "What will it be, stomping my feet, knocking something over, or some type of battle cry?" He leaned down to kiss her softly on the lips.

"Now, I have to ask you something," Renee said, leaning back out of the kiss and placing her hands gently on John's chest. His arms encircled her waist, and he made a low noise of recognition – his eyes glued to hers. She waited a moment, and then declared, "What the hell was with your spontaneity!?" Her voice was loud at first, but it softened, "You told me that you weren't ready to tell my mother the whole story, but then you come right out with it like someone put a gun to your head."

John's expressions darkened.

"Bad reference, I'm sorry," she muttered, lowering her eyes – but he took her face in his hands – forcing her to look at him.

"It is fine," he said lowly, "And to answer your question – I'm just not a good liar. I would have botched the thing somehow or another anyway. I knew though, right away that your mother was a person we could trust. That _I _could trust. There was no point in withholding the information from her. In a way, it is her business – your loving me, that is."

"You heard everything we said in the hallway, I know you did." Renee replied.

"Yes," he nodded curtly, "Your mother is just concerned about you – and why wouldn't she be, you clumsy little thing."

Renee broke into a smile.

"She didn't offend you any?"

"No. In fact, it was the nicest thing I've heard someone say about me in a while."

"What are you talking about?" she made a face, "Everyone is saying good things about you!"

"They don't know me. She knows me, and I could tell she meant her words. She likes me. Trust me, by now I am an expert at telling if someone likes me or if they don't."

"Yeah," Renee looked sympathetic, "I suppose you are."

---

John was lying awake in the bedroom, wearing just a pair of boxers. Arms folded behind his head, he was staring a burning hole into the plain white ceiling above him. Outside, it was quiet and dark, although the moon shone in through the window, casting a blue-white tint across the bed. His mind was spinning from the ordeals that had taken place all day. At first it hadn't been very positive, but began to get better and hadn't stopped since. It was his first day where actually enjoyed his time with Renee. After the visit with Harriet, time had passed quickly and he and Renee spent a lot of time talking the hours away and holding each other in their arms. It was a peaceful calm – and neither of them had wanted to do anything else. Night came fast – before they knew it, it was dark outside. They each had a simple microwave dinner and then realized they were both tired.

However, Renee had just gotten out of her clothes and into a comfortable slip when the phone rang. Despite her tiredness, she walked out to answer it. And now John could hear her voice floating in from the kitchen – she was talking to her parents. Calling late was something John had expected Amy to do – it was past ten o-clock – but John was comforted. They could _sleep in_. It wasn't waking up at 600 hours sharp anymore – or what was common in John's case, not even sleeping at all.

He just hoped that he would be able to get through a calm night with Renee – and be able to sleep comfortably without being harassed by vivid dreams of war – which had plagued him every single night since he returned to Earth.

Not taking his eyes from the ceiling, John carefully listened to one side of the phone conversation. Renee was talking low, but he soon realized she must be talking to her father – for she was talking about things she and John had already told Harriet earlier. He hadn't met Renee's father, and John couldn't help but wonder if his opinion would be different – he guessed that Jack was probably even more protective of Renee than Harriet was.

John figured something out about Renee's parents though – and he had been told this before – they were both fond of the late Troy Fisher. He understood that he and Renee had grown up together, and had dated each other during high school – but he got the vibe strongly from Harriet that even though Troy was dead, she still had a place in her heart for him. Maybe she had envisioned Troy and Renee being together in the future – for surely she hadn't expected Renee to go off and fall in love with "Master Chief".

He let out a sigh, and rolled onto his side, the bed creaking slightly under his weight. John hadn't weighed himself in a while, but he hadn't lost any muscle – probably only gained it – and he knew that he weighed more than 250 pounds easily. Well, at least he wasn't wearing MJOLNIR armor anymore, that raised his weight near close to a ton, give or take the adjusting of the suit's density and shields depending on the situation.

His armor, in a way, he _did _miss. Clothes felt him feeling naked and vulnerable. No clothes made him feel almost insecure. He just had to get used to it – his body had to get used to it – that there were no Covenant lurking around corners anymore. The war was over, the war was won.

John snapped from his thoughts, and no longer heard Renee talking, but instead, her bare feet padding on the floor as she approached the bedroom. She walked in, looking rather tired – and wordlessly crawled into bed beside him, taking a moment to fluff her pillow and flip it over to the cold side. John watched her in her pre-sleep rituals, getting joy out of seeing them. Before he hadn't paid attention, he had been selfishly lost in his own miserable thoughts.

Then she lay down on her side facing him, pulling the blankets up around her. She smiled at him, waving childishly.

"Hi," she said in a small voice.

"Hello," John replied, unable to hold back a smirk of adoration. He then leaned in towards her – and she met him halfway in a passionate kiss that lasted for a few sweet seconds. They pulled back, and John drew her close towards his chest.

"You're warm," she approved, snuggling closer to him. He could feel her cool cheek pressed against his chest and her spindly arms wrap around him. Momentarily, he hissed in a breath. Her hands were ice cold pressed against his back, but he hugged her closer.

"You're cold," he replied, looking down at her, unable to hold back a smile.

"Well I just spent the past twenty minutes sitting on the cold stool in the kitchen, wearing just this little slip, letting my Dad and Mom interrogate the life out of me," was Renee's wry response, "You don't expect me to be exactly warm, do you?"

"I can warm you up," John assured her.

"I'm counting on it." There was a moment's silence as John just rubbed her gently.

"Getting warmer?"

"Yes."

"Good." John kissed her forehead.

Renee let out a sigh.

"This is what I've missed," she whispered, "I can truly say you're back."

"More or less, that's accurate," John too kept his voice low, "I'll be comfortable as long as I'm with you. If I didn't have you…"

"You wouldn't know what to do," Renee finished, "I know. When I thought you were dead, I wasn't quite sure what I was going to do either... and then to have you show up on my doorstep, who could ask for a better birthday present?"

John made an "hm" noise. A couple of seconds later, he chuckled.

"I really love you." He told her, "You don't know how glad I am that I can finally love you without any restrictions, without any interruptions."

"So am I," she replied, absentmindedly running her hand along his shoulder and along his biceps, "Did Dr. Halsey ever find out… whether…" She trailed off.

"What?" John asked softly, although he knew exactly what it was she was talking about.

She shook her head, breaking eye contact.

"Never mind."

"Did I hesitate in the living room earlier?" John demanded.

Renee looked up at him, surprised that he understood what she had meant.

"No…?" she replied softly, almost awkwardly.

"Dr. Halsey did conduct research." John told her, "But she told me that although she believed the crossing of Spartan genes with that of a normal human would go without any absurd complications – but it would be hard to predict what exactly would happen, since it hasn't happened before."

Renee let out a little sigh.

"I see."

John rolled onto his back, and Renee quickly arranged herself so she was laying her head on his chest – and once again they were comfortable.

"Go to sleep," John whispered to her, "It's been a long day."

"Yes it has," she was agreeable, and he watched as her eyes closed, "Good night John."

"Good night." John replied.

In a few moments, Renee's breathing regulated and he could tell she had fallen asleep. It hadn't taken much – she must have been more tired than she let on. He too, was strangely tired. Despite being weary of what dreams may be waiting to pounce on him the moment he lapsed into unconsciousness, John closed his eyes.

He was out in less than a minute.

--

**A/N: **This is coming along quite well so far – everything seems to be falling into place. However, my apologies of it not being guns, explosions and aliens. This was my original concern – that although a sequel was possible, it generally might not be as fast-paced as its predecessor. But, you voted, and the majority wanted a sequel. Although it may not seem very action packed right now, it _will _eventually come to. Eventually, there will be guns, there will be action, and there will be Covenant. But, that is all I'm going to disclose… for now. – AB.


	3. Complications

**Chapter 3: Complications**

**August 3****rd**** – Los Angeles, CA**

_It was the same; I could see the Covenant approaching me. I could hear the hum of the overhead drop ship as it soared past me, having dropped its troops not a hundred feet away. I jumped and rolled – ducking as the gunner of the drop ship fired the plasma turrets at me. I could feel the scorching heat even through my armor. One shot sizzled into the ground particularly close to me. My shields plummeted, to the point where my HUD began to flash a warning – beeping in my ear. I ducked behind an overturned car, hearing the squawks from the Jackals, roars from the Brutes and the high pitched blabber from the Grunts. They had seen me, I knew they had. Now their voices were confused as they must be wondering what object I'd darted behind. They got it right - as I heard shots of plasma hitting the other side of the car._

_I clenched my teeth and checked the ammo I had left for my assault rifle. I had fifteen shots left, and two more clips. One plasma grenade, no frags, and I lost my pistol somewhere along the way. My brain whizzed as I contemplated the possibilities of getting out of the situation. There were roughly ten or twenty aliens that had jumped from the drop ship: two Brutes, the rest Jackals and Grunts. The Brutes were the biggest problem – Jackals following up second. The Grunts, if enough of their brethren were killed, would flee – but only for a little while before doubling back. A couple would probably go the kamikaze route – which could be dangerous. They didn't have to throw the grenades at me – all they needed to do is get close enough._

_I decided I would use everything I had – then rely on the plasma weapons from here on. Okay. I counted to three in my head, and ducked out from behind the car, spent the fifteen bullets I had left in the clip – I killed two Grunts – direct headshots. Then my assault rifle made a sputtering noise and then a click – out of ammo – and as I heard the angry roar from the Brutes, I ducked back behind the car to jerk the empty clip from the gun and slap a new one in. The assault rifles display showed me sixty bullets. Full. _

_I darted out from behind the car again and opened fire on them. This time I was able to see. There were exactly ten of them, eight alive. The two Brutes roared at me in their language, as their shields flickered as I shot at them. I laid it on them hard, making it difficult for them to get an accurate shot at me. A couple more of the Grunts fell. One screamed and tried to flee. _

_Suddenly one of the Brutes, the one closest to me, charged. It came barreling right at me, and I didn't take my finger off the trigger – but just my luck, the assault rifle choked as the clip emptied – just as the Brute was on me. I jumped backwards as it swung its fist at me, quick to bring its other arm behind – the one with the spike rifle. The weapon's melee advantage – a sharp curved blade on its underbelly, flashed inches from my throat. The Brute roared again in frustration, and kept coming at me as I kept backing up._

_I fumbled to get a new clip from my utility belt – but the Brute charged at me with all its might – too late. Its fist came in contact with my helmet. My head slammed against one side of the helmet and I could taste blood in my mouth – a taste that was very familiar. I staggered back, recovering quickly from the blow, just in time to avoid another swipe from the spike rifle's blade._

_Quickly weighing my options, I decided not to even bother trying to reload my assault rifle at this point. Instead, I lunged forward, delivering a kick right to the Brute's chest – sending him backwards, doubling over with the force. My hand flew to my utility belt where I swiped a plasma grenade from it – primed it, and went to throw …_

_All of a sudden, the Brute launched himself at me, and seized my hand just as I was about to let the grenade fly. Instead, it just tumbled from my fingers – a blue-white glowing orb. My adrenaline sky rocketed as I saw it hit the ground in between us, rolling close to my left foot. The Brute made no point to move. It was planning to die, and take me with it._

_There was a blinding flash, and behind it, a wall of heat. I screamed as my shields dropped completely and the shockwave hit me like a ton of bricks. Pain, so much pain…._

Renee awoke to the alarming sound of John _screaming_. She shot up from her pillow, alarmed – they were screams of pain. In the dim morning light she saw John thrashing around beside her. Instantly she grabbed him by the shoulders – or tried to.

"John!" she shouted, "John! It's a dream!"

His eyes shot open, and he gasped deeply, his expression truly one of fright. There was a brief second where he didn't do anything, but just stare into her eyes. Then he took to panting – his face covered in sweat.

"Are you alright?" Renee demanded, but John shot up from the bed – breathing heavily. In a blur he had gone into the adjoining bathroom and slammed the door before she could even object.

Behind the door, for a moment John didn't move. He just stood there, panting almost hysterically. Then his face crumpled, and he slid to the cold tile floor – covering his sweat streaked face with his hands.

"Oh God," he breathed, trying to calm himself down – but he was shaking. The dream had been so real. And, what was the worst part; he had taken a part of it into reality. He awoke Renee with his insane screaming, and all because of a horribly real nightmare. Not before had he literally screamed himself into consciousness. The dream had the same realism of all the others before it, but never did he experience that scenario, of an exploding grenade. He had actually felt _pain. _And Renee had to hear those pain-induced screams; he realized she must be frightened for him.

He listened through the door for any signs of Renee out in the bedroom. Suddenly, above him, the doorknob turned and he felt the door move as she tried to push it open. John shot to his feet as a reflex, the sudden movement scaring him.

It wasn't until the door had opened fully and he saw Renee standing in the doorway in her little nightgown did he realize he had backed himself into the farthest corner of the bathroom – almost shoving the towel rack over.

"John," Renee said, her voice overflowing with concern, "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," John answered, but was truly surprised at the weakness in his voice, "It was just a dream… a nightmare…" He corrected himself, "I… I'll be fine."

"You were screaming at the top of your lungs," Renee looked bewildered.

"I know," he replied, "I'm sorry if I scared you."

"I don't care about myself, John," she crossed the bathroom to be close to him. She reached up to run her hand across his forehead, "You're soaked…"

John didn't have anything to say to this. He reached up and grabbed her hand, taking it away from his face. For a moment, he found it difficult to keep eye contact with her. Shakily, he kissed her hand like he had done before – hoping that it would do something to change the way Renee was looking at him. She looked worried, almost scared. The kiss didn't alter her expression at all.

"Talk to me," she whispered.

"It was just another one of those… nightmares," he muttered, "Nothing new."

"You never woke up screaming before," Renee pushed.

"I just… it was just a scary scenario," John struggled with his words, "These dreams are so real, Renee. It's like I'm actually there. It was like I felt actual pain… If anything will be the death of me it'll be these damned dreams."

His grip on her hand tightened, but he realized it – and released her hand abruptly, only to clench his fist into a tighter ball until the knuckles cracked.

Renee bit her lip, and wrapped her arms around him, pressing her cheek close to his chest – not minding the stickiness of it. She could hear his heart beating steady, adrenaline induced patterns. For a moment, John was stiff, but he let out a sigh and he calmed down. His arms encircled her tightly, in a vice like grip.

"You see, this is why I need you." He confessed, "If I didn't have you here to comfort me…"

"Shhh," she whispered, "It's over now, John. You're okay. Everything is fine."

"Until the next one." He snorted bitterly.

She bit her lip again, and then lifted her head up – and stood on her toes to try and reach his lips. He bent his head a few inches to make the effort easier. Their lips met, but it was a calm, soothing kind of kiss that made the both of them relax, all tenseness left them.

"We have to do something today," Renee said once she broke from the kiss, "Okay? Something fun, we can go out. Do something that will get your mind off these stupid dreams."

"Can you relate to me?" John asked, and it was if he hadn't heard her suggestion, "You must have had bad dreams…"

"Yes I have," Renee answered, "I've had more than my fair share of them in these past ten months of being awake. They scared me too. I know what you're going through."

John sighed.

"Why does war have to do this to us?" he muttered.

"I don't know," she replied softly. After a moment, she continued, "So, do you have any ideas for today? I've got some… although if you're not feeling up for anything, I can understand. It can be another in-the-house day if you'd like."

"No," John shook his head, "You're right. I do need to get out. First thing… make me feel better."

His eyes locked with hers, and Renee knew exactly what he meant. She nodded subtly.

"Whatever you'd like."

---

Holding hands, Renee and John walked out the front door of their house into the warm Californian sun. John was dressed in a camo green t-shirt and jeans with ripped knees, Renee had on a summery dress and a pair of big sunglasses.

They had made love for what must have been two hours before finally crawling out of bed, getting dressed and having breakfast. Then, they had both agreed that they would go out for a drive around the city. John had only seen Los Angeles on the drive from the LAX airport, no further.

This kind of excited him. He felt rejuvenated after the events this morning, and the dream didn't seem so intimidating anymore. After all, it was just a dream. Surprisingly, he couldn't hold back a smile as he ran past Renee and jumped around to the driver's side of the car.

"John, what are you doing?" Renee half laughed, watching him as he comfortably took a seat, shut the door. He rolled down the window, and smiled at her – his smile almost radiating. He gestured to the passenger's seat.

"Get in," he simply said.

Renee's grin grew wider and she didn't object. She hurried around and jumped in beside him. He was able to figure out the controls – although paused at the fingerprint recognition start up. For the Warthogs, there had been a simple, old fashioned ignition.

"It recognizes my fingerprint," Renee told him, "But I can easily set it up so yours works as well…" she tapped the holographic panel on the dashboard a few times, "Okay, put your finger on the scanner and it will scan and file your fingerprint."

John did as he was told, and Renee tapped a few more times, and the holographic panel made a little beep.

"There you are, it recognizes both of our fingerprints," she smiled, and gave him a saucy look, "Can I trust you with a vehicle? I remember your driving."

"I'll be safe," John winked at her, "Promise."

He leaned over to give her a quick kiss, and then looked back to the holographic panel, "Now, how does this work?"

"There can be an auto-driver option," Renee said, "It automatically sets itself to this initially – this is for if you know where you're going…" her finger danced across the panel, and a map of Los Angeles showed up, "See? You can zoom in and out, and you select where you want to go…" she trailed off, "But if I know you well, you want manual, don't you?"

"It wouldn't be any fun otherwise," John replied, a wry grin on his face.

Renee selected the manual option instantly, and pressed the option for ignition. The car's engine came to life.

"You've got everything now," she told him, "Go for it."

John drove out of the driveway – rather quickly, and pulled onto the street – and Renee watched as the speedometer climbed from 10 to 60 in several seconds. The engine whirred, and John let it climb to 70 – the houses sped by. He rounded a corner – completely missing a stop sign. Luckily, there had been nothing coming.

"John, John!" Renee exclaimed, glancing out the window, watching as a couple of children who had been out on their lawn stared at the car as it sped on by, "Slow down! This is a pedestrian area! There are kids all over the place."

"Oh," John braked a little, bringing the speed down to 55. He didn't take his eyes off the road, "Where's the nearest highway?"

---

Renee wasn't able to relax as John drove the car going 110 down a six lane highway, heading towards the heart of Los Angeles. They could see the skyscrapers ahead – some of them were being rebuilt from the most recent attack on Earth. Signs sped by, each lane led to a different road or exit.

"This lane is heading to Hollywood boulevard," John read the overhead sign aloud as they drove beneath it, "Exit 21. Is it where you want to go?"

"You choose," Renee said, "It's where _you _want to go, not me."

John turned to smile at her, and then looked back to the road. Suddenly, he got a memory of the Tsavo highway, in Africa - where it had been filled with blockades, swarming with Brutes with their choppers, groups of Grunts and Jackals. A Wraith or two, even. Overhead, a menacing Assault Carrier had hung in the sky. That image, solely occupied his mind – and highway route to Hollywood boulevard suddenly transformed into highway heading to Voi. Instantly, John felt the vehicle swerve as he lost concentration.

He snapped back into reality, and his palms were sweaty against the steering wheel, his heart was pounding, adrenaline was rushing through his veins. Renee looked to him, and he knew she could tell something was wrong.

"John?" she questioned.

He didn't answer, and the road ahead of him seemed to flicker between the two images. Tsavo, Los Angeles. Tsavo, Los Angeles. Suddenly, he jerked the wheel to the side, sending the car onto the side of the road. A couple of cars that had been behind him honked their horns and continued on.

"John!" Renee was panicked now, "What's wrong?"

"Shut it off!" John said, his voice wavering, as the car continued to crawl along the side of the road. His hands were shaking. Renee quickly shut off the car, and John let out a frustrated noise and let his head fall onto the steering wheel. Renee was silent, knowing whatever he was battling was internal. She watched him as he breathed in heavily, and just as she was about to reach out and touch his shoulder for support, his seatbelt was off. He flung the car door open so hard it the hinges made an unhealthy cracking noise, and he stormed out, and walked around to the other side of the car. Renee was worried. She got out, just in time to watch John deliver a vicious kick to the guard rail. His foot collided with the metal with a loud noise – but the metal crumpled beneath the force – making a clanging sound as it buckled into an oval shaped dent. It must have hurt him, for he whirled away, hissing in a breath through clenched teeth. He dropped to the ground, leaning back against the guard rail, making a pitiful groaning noise.

Renee rushed to his side in concern.

"John…" she said quietly, touching his arm gently. Her voice was almost drowned out by the cars as they sped on past them, but she knew John would be able to hear her. She could feel his muscles beneath the fabric of his shirt, tense and rock hard. His fists were clenched so tightly his knuckles were white, and his face, for once didn't appear to be so pale. It was flushed with anger and embarrassment. His mouth was pressed into a tight line and she could hear the unpleasant sound of him gritting his teeth together. He was breathing like someone would breath if they had just run a marathon – and upon every exhale the breath was shaky. John's dark eyes focused dead ahead of him, although she knew he wouldn't be seeing anything at this point. After a few moments, Renee gathered up enough courage to continue:

"What happened?"

"I'm going insane." It was a dangerous tone that growled its way from John's throat.

"What?" Renee was blown away by this absurd answer, "What do you mean? No you're not."

John gritted his teeth together again, and then was up onto his feet in a second – getting into the passenger's side of the car and slamming the door. Renee took a moment to calm herself down – exhaling a deep sigh before going around to the driver's side and climbing in behind the wheel. She turned to John as he robotically put on his seat belt and stared directly ahead. He glanced down to the holographic panel and then back up to staring out the windshield at nothing.

"Home," he said in an almost deadly tone, "Take me home."

Renee quickly turned on the car and chose the automatic cruise option. Selecting their destination – home – Renee then let the car do the rest. It pulled back onto the highway. She turned to look at John, who had gone pale again – although his expression was horrible.

"Please tell me, what happened?" she asked desperately.

"I'm going crazy, that's what." John breathed, although he met her eyes in an almost painful expression, "I was fine, then all of a sudden, the … the…" he struggled with his words, gesturing at the road ahead of them, "The fuckin' highway turned into the Tsavo highway, in Africa! Right before my eyes – there were blockades ahead – and I saw Brutes with their choppers, and Jackals, Grunts and even a Wraith! But I knew it wasn't there, I knew it, but…" John stopped, making a loud growling noise. He raised his fist towards the dashboard, but he lowered it, and he bowed his head, "This isn't normal. This isn't normal… I'm losing my mind, Renee, and I'm sorry. I'm going crazy…"

Renee looked at John for a long time, before reaching over to grab his hand, intertwining her fingers with his.

"You're not crazy John," she whispered, "It's just bad memories… they'll go away eventually, I'm sure they will."

John didn't say anything to this, but he turned his gaze to the window, but he never let go of her hand. He stayed like this all the way home. Silent, unmoving, but her hand was locked in his protective grip.

---

John only let go of Renee's hand to get out of the car when it pulled into the driveway of their house. He was quick to rush around to meet her as they walked up the concrete path of their front lawn to the door. He snatched her hand back again – as she swiped her fingerprint to unlock the door. John seemed eager to get into the house out of anyone's sight – he quickly ushered Renee in the door ahead of him – then hastily shut it. Renee had just turned around to face him when John met her lips with a fierce kiss – shoving her head back against the wall with the force. He broke the kiss after a moment, only to pull her as close to him as humanly possible. It almost felt like he was squeezing the air from her lungs with the powerful grip, but she knew he meant it to be a loving hug.

"I wouldn't know what to do without you," He breathed into her hair, resting his chin on the top of her head. He brought her hand up to her neck to sweep her hair away from it. Gently, he traced his fingers along the nape of her neck – making her shiver. "You're the only one who truly makes me feel myself."

"Are you sure you're okay?" Renee looked up at him, "How is your foot?"

By that she indicated his vandalism of the guard rail.

"I don't feel _anything _at the moment," John replied, his expression dark, "But my love for you. I always feel that."

Renee smiled slightly, although she could see the frustration on John's face. It must be extremely difficult to be in his shoes, she realized - to be suffering from vivid dreams and flashbacks that affect him on a personal and physical level. His memories were stepping beyond the boundary into reality, and she knew it was taking its toll on him.

"I'm sorry our plans didn't work out," Renee whispered, "I think we rushed things too quickly."

"Maybe," John said, gently caressing her cheek, "I am ready for anything you want to do with me… it's just those memories. They… ruin everything." He let out a sigh, and let her go, stepping back away from her as if he couldn't touch her. He didn't say a word and walked into the living room.

Renee took a moment before following him – feeling troubled. She knew he was upset – and both of their moods had been squashed by the incident on the highway.

She found John lying on the couch on his side – his back facing her. He didn't move – although she knew he knew that she was there. Momentarily, she was intimidated. Was John slipping back into that unresponsive state once more? She didn't want to deal with that again – she thought he was coming back.

So far, aside from their romance in the morning, he had had a rough day. She suddenly pitied him. Why would it have to be he that would have to suffer this way? After all that he did for the world and for the good of every life in the galaxy. He'd technically saved the universe from destruction – and this is how life repaid him, spitting in his face in the form of terrifying memories. The war was over but it seemed the memories didn't want to leave him alone. All he wanted was a normal life with her, which was the only thing that mattered to John. So far, it was off to a rocky start.

"If everything else could go as smoothly as our love, we would be all set;" John suddenly spoke up quietly, not turning to face her, "Life would be grand for me, and you." There was a moment's pause… Renee knew he was thinking what to say next. He had a lot on his mind. "Do you ever wish we could rewind time?" He spoke even softer than before.

"Yes," Renee whispered back, walking towards him and perching herself on the coffee table beside the couch.

"In 2535, we were so young and carefree," John replied, "I hadn't seen all of the horrors that had been waiting on the horizon for me then. I was new to love and I thought you were the most beautiful person I'd ever seen. You and Amy, and even Troy, were great people. I felt I was a part of something other than just the Spartan II program. Those free-for-all days in Slipspace aboard the _Hercules _were some of the best highlights in my life. Some of the _only _highlights… but now, I'm a veteran. Forty what, two years old? Scarred and disfigured, a hero hiding from the world, haunted by memories. I've had a lot of good people die on me. Good, good people die unjust deaths at the hands of a force I couldn't control. I _thought _I could control them, at one point, I believe. But in the last few months of the war, I realized that I wasn't as powerful. There were forces out there that were stronger than I. I never thought uncontrollable forces would follow me to Los Angeles. I can't control that I am having these memories, I can't control that I am feeling numb to mostly everything. I just wish I could feel _alive _again, you know? Like how I felt alive as a young man on the _Hercules_."

"It's not too late for that, John." Renee said quietly, getting up and kissing him on the cheek, "Your life is far from over. We've got a while to go yet."

John moved his head slightly, catching her second incoming kiss – which had been directed at his cheek. Instead his lips locked with hers, and it lasted for a few moments, before John made a satisfied noise and let his head drop back onto the couch pillow. His eyes closed.

"Your kisses are my piece of heaven," he whispered.

Renee perched herself on the edge of the couch beside him, and brought her hand up to caress his face. She ran her finger down from his forehead along the bridge of his nose, lightly across his lips and closed eyes, and around his cheeks. This gesture she could tell calmed him down tenfold. She smiled at the sight of his relaxed face – the handsomeness of it. And he was hers, she was his. Calmly, she began playing with his hair – brushing his short bangs to one side, then to the next. She hadn't really noticed before how soft his hair was. Becoming perplexed in this little playful notion, she hadn't even noticed that John opened his eyes and was watching her.

She stopped suddenly, giving him a close-lipped smile.

"I'm sorry," she muttered.

"Don't stop," John told her, "I'm enjoying this."

"I can't do it now," Renee giggled, "You're watching me."

"Okay, I'll close my eyes," John lived up to his words.

She just touched his hair again when the phone rang – making her and John jump. Renee sighed and looked to the phone lying out on the kitchen table, as it rang again, then back to John, who was alert now. He was off the couch in a second and on his way out to the kitchen.

"I'll get it," he said, although his intentions were already clear. He picked it up and answered it with a falsely-cheerful "Hello?"

Renee watched John's expression as he smiled widely.

"Oh hey buddy!" He beamed, "Yeah, you know what? I'd love to. Yeah, I'll be up in a few minutes, okay? Alright. Over and out." He hung up, and looked back to Renee, who knew instantly who it had been. Little Troy, probably asking him to come up to play that promised game of grav ball.

"Troy just…" John began, but Renee quickly cut him off.

"I know," she replied, "Are you sure you're up for this, John? I mean, you're …"

"I'm fine," John told her, fixing her with a gaze that told her not to object, "Seriously."

Renee shook her head slightly, knowing it was far from true. But John just stared at her for a few moments, before turning and heading towards the door, his expression portraying nothing.

"We're walking, I need you to show me the way," She heard him say – then she heard the door close, the sound echoing through the house. Renee took a moment to regain her failing composure, and then she was heading after him.

---

When she and John had arrived at Amy's house, which was just a five minute walk down the road from their home, John was instantly seized by the hand by an eager Troy who had been waiting out on the front lawn for them. Troy's mouth was overdrive as he quickly dragged John to the back yard, leaving Renee standing out on the path heading to the house.

Amy came outside, and Renee was suddenly relieved to see her friend.

"The boys just left you?" She exclaimed, "Troy's so rude! I'm sorry about that."

"That's okay," Renee shrugged, walking up the front steps and following Amy as she walked into the house. Amy's fiery red hair was all over the place today, Renee noticed. It sort of resembled a long afro. It was if Amy could read Renee's mind, for she suddenly filled her in:

"Look at this fuzz ball," Amy said, gesturing to her hair as they walked out onto the back deck and sat down at the little table, complete with an umbrella, "I bought this new conditioner, and it's meant to make my hair have prettier curls, cause you know, they usually look like shit. But, look what it did! Made it even worse! I fucking _hate _my hair sometimes, you know. You're lucky your ancestry isn't Irish."

Renee laughed at her, although not to be mean.

"You could try straightening it," she suggested innocently.

"Do you think I'm stupid?" Amy asked, "I thought of that. I did. You never told me."

"Okay then," Renee shrugged with a grin.

"So," Amy looked to Troy and John, who were still talking and haven't gotten into the game, "This will be cute to watch."

"It will," Renee leaned her head on her hand.

"You seem kind of, out in left field somewhere," Amy observed, "Something happen?"

"It seems something is always happening," She shrugged, glancing to John, then to Amy, lowering her voice, "John isn't as fine as he lets on, I know it."

"Well, I know he's putting on this cute little act to please Troy," Amy said, "But we all do that for kids."

"No, that's not what I mean," Renee answered, "Today, we decided to go driving around the city… and John insisted that he would drive. We made it to the highway heading to Hollywood, and then all of a sudden, John pulls over, freaking out."

"What happened?" Amy asked, "You didn't try and blow him when he was driving did you?"

"Amy!" Renee snapped, her voice shrill, "No!"

"Sorry," Amy bit her lip, holding back a bout of laughter, "It was the first thing that came to my mind."

Renee was silent for a moment, not at all surprised by Amy's confession. She took a deep breath, then continued.

"John is seeing hallucinations," she whispered, glancing over to him as he tossed the gravball to Troy, "He told me that when he was driving, he saw the highway as some Tsavo highway in Africa. He saw Covenant on the road and just… panicked I guess. I had to drive him home – he was so embarrassed and furious with himself, he knew what he was seeing wasn't true…"

"It's really serious then," Amy exclaimed, "He needs help if he's seeing hallucinations. That could be dangerous, especially considering how he could possibly react."

"He already dented a guard rail," Renee breathed, looking down at the table, tracing her finger in random circular patterns across the surface, "He's probably got smashed toes and is not telling me."

"He kicked in a fucking guard rail?" Amy's mouth fell open, "Hope no one saw that and got your license plate number."

Renee glanced out to John, who was all smiles.

"He's really nice doing this for Troy, though," Amy added, "Troy talks about John all the time now, he thinks he's the best."

"Well, that's good," Renee smiled, "But I can't help but be worried about him. He's not the same person anymore; I know he's trying to be…"

"We're all eighteen years older," Amy pointed out, "2535 was a long time ago. We've grown up. I wouldn't worry too much about John, if I were you. He mustn't be too bad, he seems fine and dandy now!" She looked over and saw John was chasing after Troy – not as fast as he was capable of running of course, and Troy was theatrically screaming.

"Help, help!" laughter was ringing through Troy's voice, as he clutched the grav ball under his arm, "Master Chief is coming for me! He's going to kill me!" Troy came barreling up on the deck, screaming again as he flew past Renee and Amy. John catapulted himself over the railing with one arm, hurrying after Troy as they began another lap around the yard.

Amy and Renee laughed at this.

"John's just as fit as he was eighteen years ago, though," She admired, "I wish I could still propel myself over a ledge with one arm. We used to be able to do that, remember?"

"Yes," Renee grinned, "Boot camp at the academy," she rolled her eyes at the memory, "What fun that was."

"Indeed," Amy answered sarcastically.

"Oh, I completely forgot to tell you," Renee snapped her fingers, "Mom and Dad know about John – and who he really is."

"You told them?" Amy was surprised.

"John did, actually. Well he told Mom when she came over for a visit yesterday – and I was utterly surprised – because John had said he wasn't ready to tell her yet. I notice that he's a lot more spontaneous than he was before."

"What d'your parents think?" Amy pushed her on, looking totally interested, "Does John pass the inspection test? Because we all know your Mom was hoping that you'd end up with Fisher."

"She… accepts my decision." Renee shrugged, "But I don't think she's excited for me or anything. She's worried that John could hurt me, I think. Dad's kind of neutral about it, but he says he's glad I've got a man because he will keep me from being so clumsy. But Mom… she just needs to get to know John better, I think. Dad hasn't even met him yet, and he has a better opinion of him than she does."

"She's still hung up on Fisher's death," Amy declared, "She loved him like a son and you know it. So, Troy died and you bring home Master Chief… well, actually he comes home to you…" She laughed, "It's just not what she had planned. Harriet will get used to it. Just let me talk to her and she'll love John as much as she loved Fish head."

"I don't think that's possible," Renee shook her head slightly.

"Just let me do my work," Amy winked, "I can sway anyone into doing anything. Who was it that convinced John to totally mack on you?"

"You," she smiled.

"Mhm," Amy was clearly proud of this achievement, "Oh, and come to think of it, I've got something to tell you too. But you can't tell anyone yet. No one knows, not even Wayne – because I'm not a hundred percent sure as of yet."

"What is it?"

"I think I'm pregnant again," Amy whispered, a little smile on her lips.

"Really!?" Renee beamed, "That's wonderful."

"Just another munchkin to look after," Amy joked, "But, I'm pretty excited. Although I'm not getting too worked up yet, as I said, I don't know for sure."

"Can I tell John?" Renee questioned.

"I just told you, you can't tell anyone!" Amy reached across the table to punch Renee in the arm playfully, "Anyone includes John, hope you know. Speaking of you two… are you planning to follow suit? We could be cranky pregnant women together, that would be awesome."

"I haven't thought about that," Renee replied with a shrug, "I'm not even sure if a child would even fit into the picture as it is right now. I don't think John would want it."

"As she says as her boyfriend is running around playing with her best friend's son," Amy muttered, giving Renee a grin, "John's a natural with children. He'd be an awesome Dad. You guys have had sex, right?"

"You know that," Renee replied ever so lowly.

"Well I hope something happens!" Amy beamed, raising her eyebrows, "It would be great."

Renee didn't say anything. She gazed out at John and Troy, who had abandoned the game of gravball and looked to be playing a little acting game. Troy was holding an invisible weapon, scouring the lawn through squinted eyes, on the lookout for aliens. John was crouched behind a bush by the fence. All of a sudden, he jumped out of the bush, and made rather real sounding plasma rifle sound effects. Troy screamed and clutched his chest, dying theatrically – complete with final gurgling noises and the dramatic loosening of his fist as it dropped the imaginary weapon.

John walked over to Troy, and said in a deep voice,

"Well, I think I will take this human home for dinner," he said, and scooped Troy up and threw him over his shoulder. Troy came alive, screaming and laughing.

"No, no!" he kicked, "Put me down, you alien Brute! I'm not dead! I will kill you!" Troy pulled out an imaginary knife from his shoe and pretended to slit John's throat, "You're dead! Die!"

John dropped to his knees, letting Troy fall off his shoulder before dying an equally theatrically death, sprawled out, staring at the sky with convincing dead eyes. Troy jumped up, screaming to the heavens.

"Yeah! General Brown won, WOOHOO!"

"How did Troy get John into a war game?" Amy muttered, although she and Renee had watched the scene with admiration at their antics, "Do you want me to stop him?"

"They're having fun;" Renee replied softly, "John wouldn't be doing it if it bothered him too much."

John got up off the ground, and shook his head – upon faking his death, he'd seen a flash from his dream – the brief mental image of that glowing plasma grenade detonating at his feet. He felt his fingers tingle, his adrenaline come to life – as the image came back, this time, he saw something that hadn't been in his dream: a fountain of blood, and looking down to see his leg had been blown off at the knee. There was blood everywhere. Then as if this wasn't enough, it switched to the horrifying memory of seeing Renee, riddled with bullet holes, collapsing to the ground, Amy screaming and running to her side. It was like slow motion, he turned to look at Renee and Amy, sitting on the deck, both watching him. He tried to convince himself – they were just hallucinations, he still had his leg, Renee was fine. He felt Troy grab his hand, but it was only faint. He heard him call his name, but John couldn't respond as he was delivered another memory, seeing Linda getting struck with plasma bolts, dropping to the ground, Johnson suffering a direct hit from 343 Guilty Spark, Troy Fisher collapsing from gaping plasma wounds in his body, Grace lying in two pieces on the floor, James lapsing into unconsciousness after losing his arm, Sam… the last time he saw Sam, before he and the others left him on the Covenant ship. The sickly white explosion…

As if John felt all the pain himself, he clutched at his chest – he felt lightheaded. There was a moment of sheer bewilderment where he thought he was dying – his vision faded to a blinded white, then cleared, but he was seeing double, then his vision blurred so everything was just a mix of colors. They began to swirl in a kaleidoscope of patterns. He grew numb, the images once again flying through his head in quick succession, each one hurting him.

"No," he whispered, feeling tears streaming down his cheeks, "No…"

He felt himself falling, heard a commotion of Amy and Renee getting up from their chairs, Troy calling his name worriedly, and then that was it. Everything went black.

**A/N: **The first real cliffhanger of the story. Despite what he insists, it's obvious that John isn't improving that well at all. Oh, and thanks a bunch guys for all the support so far, it makes me feel more inspired! I hope you enjoyed this chapter, don't hate me too much for ending with a cliffhanger. You should know well enough by now that I like doing them. –AB


	4. Diagnosis: PTSD

**Chapter 4: Diagnosis: PTSD**

**August 3****rd****, 2553**

John slowly felt himself drifting into consciousness, slowly his senses awakening – his hearing first. He heard far-off voices, a constant beeping sound, footsteps, even fainter voices. A door being closed, something being wheeled past – still that _beeping_. He was coming around. He was laying on something soft… a mattress. With crisp, starched sheets, and the pillow was firm beneath his head. A sticky feeling on his forehead – something was on his forehead. A dull ache in his right hand, and… he groaned. As he drifted further down the river towards consciousness, he could feel it – a continuous pounding in his head – synced with each heart beat. He twitched his nose. There was a strong, almost chemical smell – disinfectant. His mouth was dry.

His eyes shot open, the last one of his senses to awaken. His vision blurred before focusing – a bright light was right in his face – causing him to squint. He turned his head, and saw Renee sitting beside him. He met her worried eyes – and noticed she looked incredibly stressed. He then glanced about the room, realizing where he was. A hospital, he was in a _fucking _hospital.

"What..." John began, but Renee reached forward, grabbing his hand and squeezing it.

"John, shush," she said, "Calm down. You'll be fine, you're in the hospital. The doctor will be here in a few minutes, just rest."

"My head," John went to bring his hand up to touch it, but felt resistance. Looking at his hand, he saw he was hooked up to an intravenous bag. "What is this shit?" he muttered, feeling his anger beginning to brew. He had just blacked out, that is all. He didn't need all of this, he didn't need to be in the hospital. He couldn't have anonymity at a civilian hospital. They would want to know everything about him for their records, his name, his age, his date of birth. In the UNSC on-ship hospitals and medical bays, they didn't ask questions because they already knew who he was. Dr. Halsey would tell them, or someone he knew. But wait, Dr. Halsey wasn't here. They couldn't already know who he was because to them he was a civilian. Not Master Chief. He looked anxiously around the room, his anger creeping up on him. He needed out of here, right now. Taking a deep breath, John pulled the IV needle from his skin and tossed the thing aside in disgust.

"John!" Renee reached forward to grab at his hand, staring at it as a little bubble of blood appeared from where he had yanked out the needle – bright red against his pale skin, "Don't do that! What are you…"

"I'm fine, I don't need to be here," John raised his voice, feeling frustrated with her. He wiped away the blood with his thumb, unconcerned. He raised his hand to his head successfully this time, feeling a bandage – in the center it was stiff from where the blood had soaked through and dried. So, he must've hit his head once he fell. The memories of him falling were foggy – he just remembered those horrible flashbacks that had attacked him... "I just fell, that's all."

"You blacked out," Renee retorted, "Split your head open… the doctors are worried that you might have a concussion."

John chuckled slightly, despite the ache in his head; it was a ridiculous thing to suspect. It would take much more than a little bonk on the head to give him a concussion. Who knew, Spartans might even be immune to them.

"Oh, bullshit," he said, lowering his voice and looking at her with a piercing gaze, "Get me out of here."

"I can't, not until the doctor sees you again and says your fine," Renee told him stubbornly, "You can't keep trying to hide this from everyone… you had more flashbacks, I know you did. That's why you fainted… what's happening to you isn't good. I'm worried about you, John. I don't want anything else to happen to you."

"What's my diagnosis then?" John snapped sarcastically, he was beginning to feel furious, his head pounding, "Psychotic? Schizophrenic? Am I going to some asylum? Just because I get _flashbacks_? Don't tell me you didn't have flashbacks!"

"Yes, I've had them!" Renee said, quickly defending herself. She was momentarily reminded of the scene yesterday where he had shoved her to the floor – but she stood her ground, "But I told people about them, I talked about them. I didn't keep them to myself and let them get to a point where they were becoming a handicap!"

"I was just overwhelmed this time, okay?" John forced himself up on his elbows, staring at Renee with a wild expression, "You didn't see what I saw! Not even _close_. So, I don't need any shit from you, or Amy, or _anyone_!"

Renee was silent for a few minutes, delivering him an expression that was almost emotionless. Suddenly, her face crumpled into one of hurt, and she got up from her chair, turning towards the door – but John's hand shot out and clamped onto her tiny wrist. It didn't take much for him to get her to stop. She looked down at his hand and back up to his eyes.

"Don't leave me," His voice softened – his character changing almost instantly, "I need you here. Don't leave me, Renee. Don't. I'm sorry…"

She looked down at him, an almost frightened expression on her face, and tried to move her wrist. He tightened his grip, his eyes boring into hers.

"I won't let you go." He raised his eyebrows in an almost pitiful expression, shaking his head, "I won't."

Renee dropped onto the chair, tears coming to her eyes.

"I hope they can do something for you," she whispered, bowing her head, "That's all I can say."

"What did you tell them?" John demanded, letting go of her as if he'd touched scalding water.

"I told them what they needed to know," Renee replied simply, "The doctors here are good, John. They helped me when I woke up from my coma. They can help you."

"I don't need any help," he snarled through clenched teeth, "I never did. I'm not weak, I'll be fine. I have no weaknesses…"

"Don't lie," Renee looked at him earnestly, "I'm your weakness, and you're mine."

She leaned forward and kissed him on the lips tenderly. John was tense for a moment – but she felt him soften. She could understand how John must be feeling at that exact moment. Although she knew she could never understand the full extent of John's condition, she could speculate. All he wanted to do was have a normal life – and he deserved it, after all he had done for humanity and the well-being of the universe. She hoped that he could be better and not be haunted by nightmares and flashbacks. Then they both could have a normal life they wanted, a normal life that was first dreamt about in 2535. Then it had been just a mere fantasy that they knew probably would never happen. Now, the only thing keeping them from a normal lifestyle was John's troubles.

Renee pulled back from the kiss and John made a little noise of content, but he turned his head away to gaze out the window at the cheery blue sky. But upon the sound of the opening door, he whipped his head back around. He watched as the doctor came in the room, a middle aged woman with graying hair. When John first saw her, he felt a fleeting joy, for he thought it was Dr. Halsey. But it was foolish of him to think so, that was impossible. Dr. Halsey was MIA along with a handful of Spartans.

This doctor was younger than Halsey, taller, with a stronger build. Her features were very sharp, but she had a square jaw. Her black eyebrows told that at some point she had had jet black hair instead of the salt and pepper grey. Her grey eyes were wide, like she was excited – although John soon realized this was just how she looked. And, she wore a smile – something that had been rare to see on Halsey's face in the later days of the war.

Renee looked relieved upon her entrance.

"Hello," the doctor spoke confidently, with a distinguishable Russian accent, "I'm Doctor Tasha Solkov." She shook Renee's hand, who said a small 'hello', then she turned her attention to John, "It's good to see that you're finally awake," she took a peek down to a medical chart she had in her hands, "Mr. John Bale. How are you feeling?"

"I don't know," John replied honestly, as Renee gave up her seat so that Dr. Solkov could sit beside him. Solkov looked at him for a moment, narrowing her eyes ever so slightly.

"You provided good information to the nurse," Solkov gave a nod towards Renee, "It makes my job a little easier," She looked to John, "You are a war veteran, just returned days ago from your post, am I correct?"

"Yes," John nodded subtly.

"You were in the war since it had begun?" Solkov was checking her facts.

"Yes."

"During that time, it's obvious that you have seen things and done things that upset you," Solkov replied, "You're not my first case, so I know how you are feeling. You are having nightmares that keep you from sleeping at night, am I correct?"

John nodded.

"These nightmares are vivid – stimulating to your senses, almost like reality?"

"Yes."

"Take place on the battle field?"

"Yes."

"I want you to answer me truthfully for the following questions," Solkov looked at him seriously, her voice stern, "Have you been finding yourself battling bouts of increased anger, sometimes over the littlest thing and without much warning, especially anything related to the war?"

"Yes," John replied, not able to meet her eyes.

"Have you expressed any aggression, towards people, animals or inanimate objects? Whether it is physical or verbal?"

John was silent for a moment. He looked up to Renee, feeling guilt sweep through him.

"Yes."

"Have you been feeling depressed, and or experienced any forms of self-hatred, regret and have little or no desire to interact socially with others in a social or public situation?"

"Yes."

"Lastly, have you have been suffering from hallucinations or flashbacks – that also affect you realistically and stimulate – whether in good or bad ways, your senses? And in any way impede or handicap you?"

John was looking incredibly pained now. He had to choke out the word "Yes." He couldn't bear to look at Renee or Solkov. He clenched his hands into fists, exhaling a lungful of air.

"There is no doubt about it, Mr. Bale. You are suffering from Post Traumatic Stress Disorder – a very common symptom for someone who has experienced what you have. You are not alone – I've seen and treated plenty others just like you over the past several years. It is curable, by means of certain treatments and types of drugs. I have here," she withdrew a bottle of pills from her pocket, "Selective serotonin reuptake inhibitors, or SSRIs for short. Their mainly used as antidepressants, but occasionally for PTSD. I've prescribed these to others before you and they have had successful outcomes."

"Does that mean I won't have flashbacks?" John demanded.

"They will help with that, yes," Dr. Solkov replied with a little smile, "However in the first few weeks, while your body adapts to the drug, you may have some side effects. The most common ones are headaches, fatigue, dizziness, drowsiness, but there have been cases of nausea, vomiting, photosensitivity, suicidal ideation, weight loss or gain, changes in appetite or sleep patterns, apathy, bruxism…" she waved her hand, "The list goes on. But it is rare that you will experience any of those symptoms besides maybe occasional headaches or dizziness, mostly because these drugs work almost entirely with your brain."

John nodded.

"As long as I feel better, I don't care." He answered, "I've been through worse."

"I have no doubt about that," Dr. Solkov gave a little sigh, "Your scars are sure plentiful. You can view them in one of two ways, as a defilation – which is common among PTSD patients, or you can wear them with pride. I've had people tell me that they are proud of their scars because it is a reminder of what they did for the sake of their race."

John nodded.

"I've been told I'm a hero," he shrugged, "So, I'll go with the latter option I suppose. Get off to a good start."

Solkov smiled.

"That's the spirit," She answered, "So, I will conduct a simple check-up, and make sure you are alright. Then I will prescribe you your SSRIs and you will be good to go."

"I am alright," John looked at her honestly, "This," he raised his hand to the bandage on his head, "Is nothing. I've been shot by plasma bolts. A little bump on the head is no impairment to me."

Solkov let out a little sigh, shaking her head. She glanced back to Renee.

"You know him well?" she questioned.

"Yes," Renee answered.

"He's a stubborn type, then?" Solkov cracked a smile.

"Incredibly."

"Well," Solkov turned back to face John, "I'll take your word for it. If you have any problems, though, don't hesitate to call. As for the pills, you take one a day. There's a month's worth of them here," Solkov looked down at the bottle, "When you finish the bottle, you come back in for a check-up with me, and I'll give you your next month's worth. But after that you should be fine and will be able to pick them up at your local pharmacy."

"You know where that is, right?" John looked to Renee. She nodded.

"You're not a native to LA, I take it?" Solkov smiled.

"No," John shrugged, "Wasn't even born here on Earth. I've only been here two times besides now. And it was to fight Covenant in Africa."

"How are you taking to the civilian life, then?" Solkov asked.

"I'm doing pretty well," John shrugged, "Think I'll be better when I'm not suffering from hallucinations." He looked down to the hospital gown he'd been put in, "Where are my clothes?"

"Oh," Solkov looked to Renee, "They're over on that trolley."

Renee went and got them. John quickly got out of bed, and went behind the curtain to get dressed. He emerged a few moments later, pulling at the little plastic bracelet that had been fitted around his wrist. It displayed his name, age and birth year.

"You can just cut that off," Solkov was amused, and she withdrew a pair of surgical scissors from her coat pocket. John willingly held out his wrist and allowed her to cut the bracelet. "It's just for identification purposes, Mr. Bale – in case you had to stay here longer." She put the scissors and the bracelet into her pocket.

Renee noticed that Solkov was actually not that short when standing next to John. For a woman, she was really tall – taller than Amy, who was roughly 5'11". Renee momentarily detested her height of 5'5" – thinking that if she was closer to Dr. Solkov's height, it would make it easier for her to kiss John. John always had to bend down to kiss her, and she had to stand on her tip-toes if he wasn't making the effort to bend his head – and then she would only be able to kiss his chin.

She studied John's features as he accepted the bottle of pills from Dr. Solkov. His dark eyebrows were slightly furrowed, eyes containing almost a far-off expression. His mouth was how it usually was, a simple line. John never had full lips, and when he pressed his lips together it made them look even thinner. There was a 3-o-clock shadow along his jaw line. She hadn't seen John shave since he came back, although when he arrived on her birthday he had been clean shaven, with his hair freshly buzzed and even smelling faintly like cologne. She often wondered what he had looked like when he had initially arrived to Earth. His hair had probably been long, way beyond military length, a beard had been probably present too. Even in that state, she found it hard to imagine John could ever look unattractive. He always appeared to be rugged – yet handsome at the same time.

"Thanks," John muttered to Solkov as he shoved the bottle of pills into his jeans pocket. John, Renee noted, looked good in jeans. He had long legs and the jeans complemented that aspect. However, he looked interesting in sneakers. His feet, which were at least size 14, were noticeably big – but they fit with the rest of him. John, in his entirety was overall, a really big man.

John was glad when they left the room and headed for the nearest elevator to leave. So far, John hadn't said anything however. She glanced to him and saw he was watching the numbers on the elevator descend as they went down floor by floor.

Renee took her own data pad from her pocket and sent a message to Amy.

"_John is ok. Received drugs. Has PTSD. Bringing him home now_."

She looked up and saw John was curiously watching her – and she put the data pad back into her pocket.

"I was just telling Amy you're alright." She informed him.

"Oh." John answered, "I'm sorry. I probably scared Troy."

"He thought he'd hurt you," Renee replied, "But he remained pretty cool about it. Amy told him otherwise – and he was confident that you'd be okay because you're the Master Chief." She gave him a little smile.

"Well, he knew what was best. I wish you could be more like him and not jump to conclusions." John said simply.

"If I didn't bring you here, you wouldn't have your medicine."

"Drugs, they're drugs, Renee." John was sounding irritated.

"You should take one," she said softly, seeing his anger beginning to flare again.

John just wordlessly unscrewed the cap and dug one out and threw it into his mouth and swallowed it. He made a face.

"Bitter?" Renee asked.

"Kind of reminds me of those drugs we had to take following our augmentations," John looked disgusted, "But if they'll help… I don't care."

"Dr. Solkov seemed nice," Renee changed the subject, noticing John's discomfort.

"She kind of reminded me of Dr. Halsey," John said, "But she smiled a lot more."

"She was awfully tall," she remarked.

"I know." John's tone was very dull.

"I wish I wasn't so short," Renee remarked as the elevator stopped on the ground floor and the doors opened. They walked out, heading for the exit. John made her heart flutter when he reached over and took her hand in a firm grip.

"Why?" John asked lowly, "I love you just the way you are."

"If I were taller, I could kiss you easier." Renee whispered.

John actually chuckled out loud. When he looked down at her as they crossed the parking lot, he was fully smiling.

"You're of average height," he told her, "I'm the one that's abnormally tall. If you wish any height changes, you should be wishing me to be a few inches shorter."

"Why?" Renee quoted him, with a wry grin on her face, "I love you just the way you are."

John leaned down and kissed her on the lips.

"I appreciate that," he said.

---

When they arrived back at Renee's house, Amy and Troy were already there, sitting on the front doorstep. When Troy saw John get out of the passenger's seat of the car, he jumped up and ran to him.

"I knew you'd be okay!" Troy cried, looking excited at first, and then an expression of apology swept across his face. He kicked at the asphalt driveway, looking away from John, "I'm sorry for making you pass out."

"It wasn't you," John told him earnestly, "Don't worry about it. It won't happen again, anyway."

Troy looked back up at him again, giving him a little smile.

"Okay," He gave John an enthusiastic thumbs up.

John returned the gesture, and then he looked up at Amy, who had slowly trailed behind her son. She had a little smile on her face.

"I should punch you for scaring the shit out of my son and I like that," Amy announced, " I didn't know what went wrong, I thought you had some Spartan malfunction or some sort of thing."

"Come on Amy," John narrowed his eyes, a little smirk coming on his lips, "You know me better than that. That sounded like the stuff they're cooking up on the news. Spartans don't malfunction, Renee would know that, and so should you." He glanced down to Renee who had quietly come to stand beside him.

"How would Renee know that?" Amy's signature grin came to her face, and she looked from Renee to John, "I would say more, but…" she glanced down to Troy, "I won't."

"I think that would be best, yes," John nodded curtly; "However, any inquiry you would think up would be wrong. I was simply stating that Renee, along with you know me well enough to know that I don't malfunction like some machine. I'm working fine, if you want to get into mechanical terms. Close to a hundred percent, now, I'm proud to announce."

"Well, that's good news," Amy smiled, "What did they do for you?"

"I was diagnosed with PTSD," John spoke more lowly, "And they prescribed me some pills. I take one every day. They're supposed to help me with my hallucinations – and my emotional problems."

"Problems?" Troy questioned, and the adults looked down at him in surprise, not expecting him to be listening. Most of the time, Troy just tuned out of boring "grown up" talk, but instead he was all ears. He looked to John, "You don't have any problems!" he gave him an honest smile.

"Thanks, kid," John smirked. He wasn't going to bother correcting Troy otherwise. He didn't need to know about his flares of anger and bouts of depression. John glanced up to Amy, who gave him a little nod of approval. She was thinking the same way.

"How about you go and watch TV?" Amy asked Troy, "I'm sure Renee would let you. It's just about time your show is on, isn't it?" She winked at Renee.

"Yeah!" Troy looked excited, "And I understand, you guys want to talk about grown up stuff. That's fine with me." John smiled at this, and Troy turned to Renee, "So, can I please use your…"

"You don't need to ask," Renee told him, "I've told you that before, go on."

"Thanks," Troy gave her a big smile and went off into the house.

"That was cute," Renee remarked to Amy, "In a way, he's really smart for his age."

"He understands," Amy shrugged, "He knows well enough by now if I go tell him to watch TV, or go play one of his games, I mean that I want to talk alone with the rest of the 'grown ups'." She chuckled deeply after this, "Which is exactly what I want to do. John, tell me more information."

"How much do you know?" John questioned.

"Well, I know you didn't black out from heat stroke," Amy looked at him, "I know that your driving excursion around LA failed… Renee told me. You're having hallucinations, she said."

John's expression darkened at the mention of the ordeal.

"More like flashbacks that are morphing into reality," John shrugged, his voice low and gravelly, "But, the pills I am taking are hopefully going to help them stop."

"Are they heavy duty drugs, or…"

"They're called SSRIs," John filled her in, and he glanced to Renee, "I don't remember what that stands for, but they're normally used as anti-depressants. The doctor told me I could have some side-effects but nothing potentially serious."

"As long as you're feeling better, right?" Renee asked him softly.

"Exactly, RenRen," Amy let Renee's nickname slip, and John instantly looked to her to see her reaction.

Renee didn't say anything. She put her hand to her mouth, to chew on her fingernail, and she gestured towards the door.

"The sun is warm, and we aren't wearing sunscreen, let's head inside." Her voice was small.

Amy exchanged glances with John.

"That's right!" Amy said after a moment, "Yeah John, you don't want to burn, considering how pale you are!"

"I really don't care…" John answered, but he followed the two women into the house. He was watching Renee's mood now. He knew that RenRen had been a nickname strictly used by Troy Fisher a long time ago. Since then, it probably hadn't been mentioned. John knew that in some way, Troy's death had affected Renee – but any grief she had was strictly controlled and kept internal.

They walked into the kitchen and casually sat around the kitchen table. Renee for a moment looked troubled. She was still chewing on her fingernail, something John hadn't seen her do before. Looking perplexedly at the table, she didn't say anything for a while.

"I'm sorry about that," Amy finally decided to say.

"About what?" Renee asked, letting her hand fall from her mouth. She was acting indifferent.

"About calling you your old nickname."

"Oh, that's okay." Renee shrugged it off quickly – but John could see it was bothering her.

Amy once again met John's eyes worriedly – but John only looked at her for a second before turning his attentions back to Renee – who was noticeably trying to keep her composure. Her eyes were glittering with tears – and her nose was beginning to turn red. She let out a deep sigh, looked at Amy, then to John, shaking her head.

"Sorry." She choked out, before shoving back the chair and whisking out of the room.

Amy looked bewildered for a moment, but then she leaned forward on the table, running her fingers through her messy hair.

"Great, I just made my best friend cry," she whispered with a frustrated sigh.

"You didn't, it wasn't your fault," John replied lowly. He reached over and put his hand on her shoulder comfortingly.

"Hell of a grip you've got," Amy tried to lighten the mood, but John could tell that she was clearly upset too. John was compelled to go after Renee, but it would be rude to leave Amy. And if they both got up, Troy would wonder what was going on – and he didn't deserve to be dragged into this.

"Do you know something I don't?" John asked her ever so quietly.

"Renee still grieves over Troy," Amy met his eyes, "When she first woke up from her coma, she was haunted by the memories of being with him when he died. I was her shoulder to cry on more times than I can recall. She loved him, you know."

John stiffened.

"No, oh no, not like that," Amy quickly corrected John, "She loved him as a friend. We both did. He was our best friend since; we were three I believe it was. Fisher could always make her laugh, make _us _laugh. There were more times than I can remember that he used to get both of us just howling with laughter. I almost would piss myself sometimes." Amy smirked a little at the memory, "When Renee woke up from her coma, I couldn't get her to laugh. I knew, that if Troy had lived, he would've made her bust her gut laughing. Hell, he could send her back into a coma from laughing so much. You never got to really know him, John. He was just starting to warm up to you, the nickname he gave you, JoJo, wasn't it?"

"Yeah." John answered quietly, remembering the time Troy first addressed him as such.

"He was an asshole most of the time," Amy shrugged, "But… beneath that, he was the funniest guy you would ever meet. Renee still can't accept that he's gone, I suppose. She has you and me, and Wayne and my little boy, but… she's missing her clown of the circus." She sighed, "Damn, I should've known better than to call her RenRen. It just slipped out… but… I should've known better!"

John was silent for a moment. He could understand Renee's loss. Troy, in a way, knew Renee better than he ever could. He had a place in her heart, just like he himself did. John had been a fool to say that Renee couldn't understand what he had been feeling when it came to grief. He'd been wrong – Renee could relate exactly. It must have been horrifying for her to see her childhood friend die right in front of her eyes – John had been too worried about that Elite at the time to see Renee's grief.

Renee had been in a coma for eighteen years, so it was easy to understand that Troy's death still felt to her like it had been just yesterday.

"Should I go and try to talk to her?" he asked Amy suddenly.

"No," Amy shook her head, "She left so that she could be alone. Give her a few minutes, Renee will be fine. Don't worry about her John."

John nodded, although it felt strange for him to not go and comfort her. But he realized, he probably wouldn't be able to comfort her much anyhow. Not involving that particular issue.

"Amy, do you think…" John began, thinking heavily, "There is any way I could try and make her happier?"

Amy looked at him for a long time, not saying anything. Finally, she took a deep breath, leaning her head on her hand.

"My life was made better tenfold by that little munchkin," Amy gestured with head to her son in the living room, "For the longest time I felt like shit, don't forget I was wide awake during those eighteen years Renee was in a coma. Even after I married Wayne, I felt dull. Then, I found out I was pregnant, and my whole world changed. Becoming a parent brightens your life."

John was expressionless for a moment, but then he shook his head, looking down at the table.

"I can't see it happening."

"Why not?" Amy asked him, "All you need to do is follow the directions, per se. And if Renee is telling me the truth, you've already done that a couple of times already." She gave him a little smile.

"It wouldn't fit."

"What wouldn't fit?" Amy spoke up, her eyes widening.

John exhaled, looking away from Amy, shaking his head.

"A kid. A kid wouldn't fit into my lifestyle." He replied desperately.

"You had me worried there for a second," Amy told him, "I was just about to recommend some lube." She received an incredulous look from John, and she smiled largely, "But yeah, why wouldn't you think a kid wouldn't fit into your lifestyle? What have you got to lose?"

"Nothing," John answered truthfully.

"Well then." Amy grinned, "I think a child spawned from you and Renee would be positively beautiful."

"A half Spartan," he looked at her, "That automatically would change the kid's life. I wouldn't want to curse them with my genes. Imagine, my son or daughter gets sent home from school for picking up the monkey bars and throwing them at someone."

Amy laughed at this.

"That would be hilarious!" she clapped her hands.

"No, you don't understand," John shook his head, "You don't know how strong I really am. Even if you were to divide my strength in half, I could still take a normal human being and mash them to bits. After my augmentations, I killed a few ODSTs because I wasn't aware of my true ability. If it isn't the tossing of monkey bars it will be an accidental murder."

"Well, you wouldn't keep the truth from them, obviously," Amy explained, "Say to your son, daughter, whatever you have, 'You're like Daddy. Daddy is really strong. He can lift tanks and cars and can kill people very easily. You can too. Be careful when play fighting with Suzy and Bobby, okay?'"

"But all I would need is for there to be one accident, just one," John told her, "And people would start suspecting things. The last thing I would want is for them to be labeled 'Son or daughter of a Spartan' or 'Child of the Chief'."

"You honestly believe that you can keep your true identity hidden forever?" Amy asked him softly.

"Yes."

"I hope you can, for your sake," she answered, "And Renee's."

At that moment, she and John looked up to see Renee enter the room. She was looking particularly cheerful; although it was obvious she had freshly powdered her face – especially around her nose. Her eyes were slightly red, but other than that Renee had done a pretty good job to cover up that she had been crying.

Wordlessly, she sat back down at the table.

"How are you doing?" John asked her quietly.

"I'm fine," Renee forced herself to smile, "Thanks for asking though."

John felt frustrated, as he knew that she hadn't been fine a few moments ago. For all he knew she still might be feeling horrible, but she wouldn't tell him. To end that topic, he fixed her a look that carried the message of "I'll talk to you later". Renee looked away from him, down to the table, where she pretended to be interested in her fingernails.

"So," Amy exhaled, sensing the tension between the two, "We should probably be going." She said it loud enough so that Troy could hear her from the living room, "Just wanted to make sure you were alright, John. But of course you are," she grinned.

"Yeah, green to go," He gave her a thumbs up.

When Amy had dragged Troy away from the TV, the good-byes were exchanged and the door was shut – leaving John and Renee alone, John instantly was all-focused on her. Renee pretended that there was nothing wrong, as she turned and walked casually back into the kitchen.

"You were crying," John came up behind her, wrapping his arms around her protectively.

"No I wasn't."

John's grip tightened about her waist.

"Don't lie to me."

"Who says I'm lying?" Renee asked him, although her voice was choking up on her.

"Amy told me exactly what's going on," John pushed.

Renee turned around to face him, a bewildered look on her face.

"Nothing is going on! I don't know what came over me there, but I'm sorry. I'm feeling absolutely fine!" She was quick to defend herself from his interrogation.

"You're missing Troy," John declared after a moment of silence.

Renee stared at him for a moment, but slowly he watched her composure falter on her. She panicked, trying not to sound upset. She began to pace,

"Why would I miss him?" she asked, her voice also being cowardly and not proving itself strong, "I… I… it was a long time ago. He's dead, it's done with. It's not like I can bring… bring him… ba… back." By the end of her sentence, she was crying again. She dropped to her knees, covering her face, "I'm sorry, John…"

John kneeled down beside her, reaching out and wrapping his arms around her and pulling her close to his chest.

"You don't need to apologize;" he said lowly, "Amy explained it the best way I think it could be explained. And… I can relate to you. I was there too. "

"I just never thought… I never expected him to just… be there one moment and be gone the next." Renee exercised her self control, her voice growing stronger, and the waver in it halting. John could feel she was tense against him, her fists clenched tightly.

"I know," John answered.

Suddenly, Renee started to laugh. She pulled her head away from his chest to look him in the eyes, her own eyes glittering with tears – but she was smiling.

"So far we've been a couple of emotional wrecks," she shook her head, "We are making each other miserable with our problems."

John couldn't understand how she found any humor in her words. He looked at her in concern, but she stopped laughing and wriggled herself free of his grasp, getting to her feet and letting out a deep sigh, running her hands through her hair.

"Maybe I'm a little bit crazy too," she said with a bemused chuckle, looking over her shoulder at him as he stood, "I often wonder how Amy does it, you know? She doesn't seem to let the past get to her at all! I don't know how she does it. I mean, she was there when Troy died too... she seen all the same stuff I saw. Yet I'm the one breaking down when my old nickname is brought to light…"

"Amy has her son," John said quietly, ignoring the feeling of an upcoming headache, "She told me herself, that he has a big part in making her happier. And, Amy wasn't in a coma for eighteen years, Renee. She had all this time to accept Troy's death. You've had only but a few months."

"I always _was _too emotional," Renee shrugged, sniffling loudly and wiping at her eyes.

"Your excess emotion can compensate for my lack of it," he replied, "If we're not the perfect match, I don't know what is."

Renee turned to face him fully, and she stepped forwards and gave him a hug – squeezing him as hard as she could, although she knew John wouldn't be bothered by it.

"You're right," She said softly.

"Just like you told me, if there is any time you wish to talk to me, about anything, don't hesitate," John told her sternly, "We have to rely on each other, Renee. It's becoming very clear. Communication is important… our relationship is important… you're important."

"_You're _important," Renee smiled, looking up at him, "Master Chief, sir."

"Corporal Kilburn," John said after a moment.

They both laughed at the memory, and shared a small kiss. When they broke from it, and Renee opened her eyes, she saw John's expression was very thoughtful; his features were spun into a playful contortion. His corners of his mouth were curled up, one eyebrow arched, eyes almost sparkling with emotion.

"I wonder," he grinned, tightening his grip around her, "Do I technically still have authority over you, Corporal?"

"Ex-corporal," She corrected, smiling at him, "You're an ex-MCPO. You could have ex-authority, I suppose. But, why can't we be equal?"

"I like giving you orders," John almost whispered, flashing her a seductive smile.

"Do you?" Renee acted innocent, but her eyes portrayed her knowledge of the underlying message.

"Yes," John's face was inches from hers, "Kiss me."

"Sir," She kissed him, "Yes," another kiss, "Sir."

John just stood there, with his head bent down for convenience and allowed Renee to plant kisses on his face, his eyes closed. His headache didn't seem so bad, he felt rather peaceful, actually. Tired, but relaxed. Content, yes, content was a good word to describe it. And since he'd taken the pill, he hadn't suffered from any hallucinations. The memories only happened if he consciously made the decision to think of them.

After what must've been the tenth kiss, Renee pulled back, dropping down from her tiptoes to her normal height. He opened his eyes, and she smiled at him.

"How was that?" she questioned, "Did I pass?"

"With flying colors," John whispered in her ear. She savored the moment as he leaned in and kissed her neck. Tilting her head back, she felt momentarily lightheaded. Butterflies took flight in her stomach, and for the first time in a while she felt her knees go weak.

Suddenly, she was snapped from the moment when the phone, on the table next to them, rang shrilly.

"God," she muttered, but she slipped out of John's grasp and looked to the phone, then back at John, "It's Amy. She just left… what could she possibly want?"

"It's probably Troy," John said as he watched her pick up the phone.

"Hello?" Renee asked.

"Renee!" Amy's voice was loud – and Renee had to hold the phone a couple of inches from her ear, "You need to see this! Turn on the _fucking _TV!"

Renee felt a moment of panic, her stomach flipped.

"What?" She asked, "What's going on?"

"Just turn on the TV!"

Renee glanced over to John, who could hear both sides of the conversation, thanks to Amy's volume. He looked alert, like he was ready to bolt out and kill Covenant. Instead, he just whirled around and turned on the TV. Renee followed him to the TV. The cartoons that Troy had been watching earlier were still on.

"What channel?" Renee asked Amy impatiently.

"News, any US news channel," She said.

John did it for Renee, he flipped through the channels until he found one dedicated to news. And surprisingly, they were both shocked to silence alone by the "Breaking News" headline that was flashing just beneath the reporter.

It said: "BREAKING NEWS: Master Chief's Face Revealed".

At that moment it flashed to a video – of a surveillance tape, which the reporter said was from the UNSC frigate _Knight of Reclamation_ – the exact ship John had come to Earth on. John and Renee both watched the surveillance tape in silence – it was showing what looked to be a cargo room. Then the door slid open, and a man, wearing MJOLNIR armor and carrying an assault rifle, came in cautiously. He went over to a nearby table, and piece by piece began disassembling his armor.

"Is this a joke?" Renee asked ever so softly. No reply from Amy, she was probably too busy watching.

She glanced over to John and saw he had gone rigid and white, eyes glued to the screen. He didn't reply either.

The man, left wearing a black body suit, hesitated to take off his helmet – but finally did. At first, his face wasn't visible. He had shaggy, unbrushed and uncut brown hair. Suddenly, he whipped around, and this is when the video stopped – and flashed to a cropped, up close shot of his face.

Renee didn't say anything, she just watched in stunned silence. It _was _John. He was dirty, unshaven and bruised and bloodied, but it was his face. It was out now. John's face – the face of the Master Chief.

**A/N:** Told you things would begin to pick up – (or I hope they are). It's another kind of ending – not quite a cliffhanger, but one that makes you go "Iwanttoreadthenextchapterrightnow" kind of thing - hopefully. So, John's just received his meds to help him with his PTSD, and now he's got this whole ordeal to contend with. I won't give too much away; I'll just say John will _not _be very happy. He won't go throwing cement blocks around again, though. So far, John's civilian life – as well as Renee's, has been pretty rocky. Until next chapter (which I have to start)… - AB


	5. Blown Your Cover

**Chapter 5: Blown Your Cover**

**August 3****rd****, 2553 – Los Angeles, CA **

Renee let her hand holding the phone fall from her ear, her heart beginning to pound furiously in her chest. She stared blankly ahead, hearing John's breathing clearly as if he were right next to her ear. She pressed the end button on the phone. It let out a beep and she set it aside on the table, and glanced to John again. He hadn't moved since the last time she'd looked at him.

"_Although we now know the face of Earth's hero, we have no idea where he would be. People suspect he would still be involved with the UNSC, while others are going as far as saying that he's gone off to make a life for himself. Lord Terrence Hood, who participated in a one-time interview just days ago- dismissed the fact that Master Chief is still with the UNSC – declaring non-directly that he isn't aware of his whereabouts – or that he's simply not in the military anymore. He particularly hinted towards Master Chief wanting to proceed with a normal life. There is so much we don't know about this unmasked hero, but we _do _know his face._"

Another image of John's face – more directly on with the security camera, showed up on the screen. John's expression was more serious; eyes looking to the right, his mouth open slightly. Although he was scruffy and dirty, if you could put a picture of clean-shaven John next to the one on the screen, the resemblance would strictly be there. John's features were unique, every single one of them. Eyes more serious than anyone – so brown they looked at times black; a straight Roman nose that looked like it had been chiseled out of stone, a strong, wide face, his cheekbones and jawbones prominent, his mouth, a straight simple line, his skin almost as white as snow – scattered with scars, at different stages of existence. And, his size – there weren't many men walking about carrying the status of being 6'10" and over two hundred fifty pounds – all of it rock hard muscle and bone.

As Renee sat there, the voices from the TV turned to gibberish, going in one ear and out the other, as she stared off into space – a place somewhere on the floor. What would this mean for them? How would this change their lives? She was unsure what to even do. Seconds passed, and John didn't move. She didn't move.

Then, John blew up.

Like a volcano, he shot up from the couch – letting out a yell that echoed throughout the entire house. Renee flinched, but didn't move otherwise. She watched him, draw his fist back, contemplating putting it through the TV screen. He whirled away, knowing breaking the TV wouldn't make this issue go away. It wasn't that simple.

John's eyes met hers, wild with anger. She knew that this wasn't because of his PTSD – he'd taken his pill. This was anger – true anger. And truthfully, who could blame him?

"Where's my data pad?" he asked, his voice low, sounding deadly. For a moment, she was frightened to answer him.

"I don't know," She replied after a long beat, keeping her voice at a whisper.

"You don't know," John repeated, but he nodded, "Neither do I."

He began to search, on the tables first, then the counters, flying out of one room and into the next. After looking in the kitchen, he came striding back into the living room, where he began to take the cushions off the couch and throw them to the floor.

Renee felt a surge of anger run through her – and she suddenly screamed.

"It's not there!"

John's head snapped up.

"Then where is it?" he played the exact game, his voice a yell.

"I told you, I don't know!" She shrieked, "Why do you need it anyway? Do you have to talk to your artificial intelligence girlfriend?" After saying this, she watched John's expression darken – and instantly, her courage shrunk.

"What?" John's eyes looked vicious.

Renee didn't say anything. She felt a shiver run down her spine.

"That's what you think, now is it?" John continued, "Have you know, Cortana saved my life more times than I can remember. If it weren't for her, I'd probably be dead! It's not like the same can be said for you! I was the one always saving _your_ ass!"

"Why are you attacking me?" Renee demanded, backing up from him, "I didn't release that video! It's not my fault that now everybody knows your face!"

"I'm attacking _you_?" John retorted, his face for once not looking so pale – it was turning red with anger.

"I don't understand why it's a big deal. The world knows your face, so what? Are they going to know where you are? Are you afraid they might ask you questions? You're the Master Chief – you're a hero, and yet, now you're cowering…"

"I am _NOT_ cowering!" John shouted, his voice so loud that it rung through Renee's ears. He clenched his teeth, crossing over to her in two seconds – grabbing her by the shoulders and giving her a shake, yelling right in her face, "Don't ever accuse me of being a coward!"

Renee clenched her eyes shut, her ears ringing. After a moment, she opened her eyes, and looked bravely up into his – ignoring the pain in her shoulders as he held her in a vice like grip.

"Let me go," she ordered, "You'll regret it if you don't."

John looked at her for a long while, but he loosened his grip on her shoulders and pulled her into a hug – though he was incredibly tense.

"I'm sorry," he muttered, "It's just my head… I… and this," he glanced to the TV, "I didn't need this."

"I'm sorry as well," Renee breathed, "I never meant anything I said… I don't know what I was trying to do, actually." She broke from his hug, speaking softly, "Why are you looking for the data pad? I'll help you try and find it."

"I have to contact Lord Hood," John said, still keeping his voice low. He still looked angry, but he didn't let it come through vocally, "To try and make sense of all this. _Someone _must have gotten their hands on the security tape from the ship, but only military personnel would have access, and it doesn't make sense as to why anyone would want to do that."

"It actually does make sense," Renee looked at him, "If you think of it from the person's point of view. They could sell it for a fair bit of money, think about it. You're face is something everyone wants to see – well… now they're seeing it."

John was silent for a moment.

"I'll go check the car," he said, "I probably left it in there. Be right back."

He rushed past her – and made possibly the quickest trip to and from the car that was humanly possible, and came back with his data pad in his hand. Already, he was tapping away at it.

"I'm going to initiate a holographic video call," John told her, as he set the data pad on the coffee table, sitting down on the couch, "It's much more personal that way."

"Do you want me to leave?" Renee asked, prepared to duck out of the room.

"No, you were once UNSC personnel," John looked at her like she was stupid, "Besides, Lord Hood hasn't met you. Come sit beside me."

She did wordlessly, and watched the data pad as a holographic image shot up out of the screen – bluish green in color. Words dashed across it.

_Accessing – requesting video call, pending… please wait…_

_Connecting to the database…_

_Transferring information…_

_Intercepted…_

_Connecting_…

"Hello John," a female voice filled the room, and Renee jumped – and watched as holographic image of a woman's face appeared, replacing the words – but she wasn't human. Her 'face' was scrolling with numbers and symbols, and she was a transparent blue in color, "Oh," she looked to Renee, "A new face. This must be ex-Corporal Renee Kilburn."

"Hello," Renee said in a small voice. The woman gave her a little nod.

"Cortana," John smiled, "Good to see you again."

"Likewise, John," She raised her eyebrow, "You look nice."

"I don't know about that," John chuckled.

"You always were too modest. But, anyway, my apologies," Cortana said, "I know you're looking for Lord Hood, but I couldn't resist intercepting the transmission request. Once I saw it was you, I jumped at the chance. And I know exactly why you're contacting us too. I've seen many messages being transferred through the systems – it's all everyone's talking about."

"Do you know how it happened?"

"Someone got their hands on the security data chips – but the question is, who. Lord Hood will know more about it than me. I will transfer you to him. Oh, before I go, you don't know how much I miss you."

"I miss you too," John answered.

"Nice meeting you," Cortana said to Renee.

"Yes," Renee answered, and Cortana's image disappeared from the screen – although it continued to scroll numbers and symbols. There was a flash, and then they formed into an image of a room – the numbers disappearing. They both saw Lord Hood standing in front of a control panel, his arms folded behind his back – looking at them.

"Can you see me?" was his first question.

"It's a go, sir," John replied.

"117, it's good to see you again." Hood told him, "And…" he looked to Renee, "Pleased to meet you."

"Oh, sir, this is my…" John trailed off, looking for a word, "Long time friend, Ex-Corporal Renee Kilburn."

Lord Hood smiled slightly, and gave Renee a nod.

"Hello, sir," she said awkwardly.

"Lord Hood, sir," John declared, getting down to business, "You've seen the news, sir?"

"Yes, and heard enough about it," he sighed, adjusting his hat on his head, "I'm sorry it had to get out. I have people working right now to try and figure out who took the data chip from the security camera – as well I've got them on the mission of retrieving the initial data chip, as it is classified property of the UNSC."

"Do you have any suspects, sir?" John asked.

"Not anyone directly," Lord Hood replied, "But, I _don't _think it was anyone with a rank."

"What's that supposed to mean, sir?" questioned John, looking confused, "You think someone like the cleaning personnel are to blame?"

"That or those people who were hastily hired to go on the retrieval missions – there were a handful of those on the _Knight of Reclamation_."

"Yes," John nodded, immediately remembering the man, Bayle, from which he'd borrowed his last name – he told him his name was John Bale, without the Y. He had been one of those employed workers Lord Hood described, "I met one…"

"The man in the video," Lord Hood answered.

"The _whole _tape was released?" John demanded, sitting more forward on the couch, "Then they've got my name!"

"Not from the video," Lord Hood shook his head, "The security tapes have no audio – for obvious reasons. But… from other unknown sources, they've got your name. Probably from whoever stole the data chip. I was going to contact you anyway because of this – but I knew you'd get to me first. This person has to be someone you talked to, someone you gave your alias to."

"From that bastard." John snarled, "That man, the one from the video, him, I told him my name! He and a couple of marines were the only ones to know my name. The guy, Bayle… spelled with a Y, he was the one I got the last name from. And the marines, there were three of them, Blair and Rebecca Coady, brother and sister. And then there was this quiet guy named Alfred Reynolds."

"Hmm." Lord Hood nodded, "You have an excellent memory. I'm not familiar personally with anyone you mentioned. I'll check their statuses though as we speak. If it's possible, we'll get all of them in for questioning. Any of them you particularly suspect?"

"I don't think it was Reynolds, sir," John told him, "Hardly said a word. Blair Coady was inquisitive about me, Rebecca was more indifferent. Bayle, though, he was a jumpy guy. Seemed almost nervous, but considering the predicament I had him in…" John trailed off.

"I saw that," Lord Hood nodded, looking slightly amused, as he typed away on a keypad, looking to another screen, and declared after a moment, "Blair Coady is still involved in the UNSC. His sister and Reynolds, though, resigned – listed as 'for personal reasons'. But… Bayle…" he made a face, "I don't trust him. I was one of the ones who thought that _trained _UNSC personnel with a few years experience should be the ones to go on the retrieval missions. _Not _a bunch of rookies and cleaning men. They were just too lazy to go looking – said there wasn't anyone willing to do it. They pulled these youngsters aside, made sure they could shoot a gun, and then," Lord Hood hit his fist on the table, "Give them full control of search platoons – which were made up with the same kind of people." He gave John a grin, "No doubt this Bayle fellow is the man we want."

"It would be better if you deal with him, sir," John gritted his teeth, "I don't know what I would do if I were to get my hands on him."

Lord Hood nodded.

"Understandable, John. I _will _definitely get people out looking for him."

"He'll be court martialled?"

"Most definitely," Lord Hood said, "And after this war, no doubt the Top Brass – including myself, would love to sink their teeth into a case such as that. It's high grade theft – stealing a data chip from a UNSC ship. It's property of the military – and contains classified information – in this case, your chance at a life of anonymity."

"About that, sir," Renee spoke up, "Is that still possible?"

Lord Hood looked thoughtful for a moment.

"The world may know John's face, and John's name, but they don't know where you live. I will try everything in my power to stop the pictures and videos from spreading – but you might have to move, somewhere more subtle than LA. Or, you could take your chances."

John and Renee exchanged glances.

"My only friends… besides you and Cortana, sir, live in Los Angeles," John replied, "I couldn't leave them."

"You're lucky," Lord Hood said, "So, people might not recognize you. As long as you keep your hair short and your face clean shaven."

"Military length, sir," John nodded.

"You're not in the military anymore, son," Lord Hood told him, "It wouldn't kill you to look like a civilian."

"Talking to you and Cortana almost made me forget," John answered truthfully.

"If you ever want to come back, John," Lord Hood said, "I still have your rank."

John nodded subtly.

"Thank you, sir. I'm here if you need me, sir!" John gave him a salute, and then added lowly, "Tell Cortana that as well."

Lord Hood smiled slightly.

"She's listening," he told him, "And I don't think it was something she didn't know, anyway."

"Keep me posted," John replied.

"Of course."

"Thank you, sir."

The hologram flickered, and the image of Lord Hood disappeared, signaling the end of the conversation. John let out a sigh, reached out and took the data pad, shut it off and put it back in his pocket. With forced amusement, he told Renee:

"So I won't forget where it is," he added a little lopsided grin to his words, and Renee simply smiled – although she was worried about John. Although Lord Hood would try his best to help John, he couldn't undo what had been already done – every single person who had been watching the news had seen his face. She could tell by just looking at him that he was still incredibly angry. He wasn't close to relaxed, his jaw was clenched slightly off-center, his eyes narrowed into almost tiny little slits. A vein could be seen bulging in his temple – and his face was flushed. His broad chest rose and fell with each heaving breath he took, his fists clenched as he rested them on his knees.

John exhaled deeply.

"I was a _complete _idiot to tell that man my name," he hissed, shaking his head, "When he asked me for it, I should've just snapped his neck."

"You didn't know he couldn't be trusted," Renee said quietly, "Who would think, after all this war that one of our own could betray us? You were so used to fighting aliens. It was a comfort to trust in your own species. You just chose the wrong person to trust."

"Could've I made a worse mistake? In all of my years fighting, this has to be the biggest blunder." John gritted his teeth, "I'm sorry, Renee. What hope do we have now of a normal life? Someone will spot me, someone will take a picture of me – someone will eventually find out where we live. I'll end up killing someone – and be arrested, thrown in prison for the rest of my life and accomplish absolutely nothing."

"Don't be so negative," Renee told him, "If it comes down to it, we can do as Lord Hood said. We can move away, some small little town where no one will find us."

"Bull shit," John got up, walking briskly into the kitchen, where he leaned on the counter, boring a hole into the cupboard with his eyes – which at the moment were containing a deadly expression.

"I doubt anyone will recognize you," Renee followed him, "Just invest in a pair of sunglasses for when we go out."

John simply shook his head, and looked out the window to the front lawn and onto the road. It was getting dark, the street lights had already come on.

"Good, this nightmare of a day is almost over," he muttered.

"Tomorrow will be better, I promise," she whispered, walking up to him with the intentions of giving him a kiss, but John didn't bend his head. He continued to stare out the window, fuming.

"I have such a pounding headache," John turned away from her, "It feels like my head is going to explode. At the moment, I wish it damn well would. I am so pissed off right now, it's not even funny!" he ended with a yell, and brought his fist down on the counter with a loud slam. Renee winced, waiting for the counter to crack – but he hadn't hit it that hard.

"I have something that could help that," she offered.

"No more goddamn pills," John snapped, "You're lucky I'm taking the ones I have."

Renee sighed.

"What happened to your self control?" she whispered.

"I'm not throwing cement blocks around am I?" John snapped again, "I _have _self control. This _is _my self control, Renee. How can you be so… composed? Some asshole sold a video containing my face and distributed my name to the whole world, and you're acting like you don't care!"

"I do care," Renee hoisted herself up to sit on the counter – and she reached over, quickly grabbed his face and pulled his lips to hers. She kissed him, despite that there was no participation from his side. After a few seconds, she broke apart, yet still held his face so he wouldn't turn away. He looked at her in silence.

"It does no good to be angry," she told him, "it solves nothing. Let's talk about it, okay? We can go get something for dinner, and talk about it. Fast food sound good to you? There's this place Amy, Fisher and I used to go to all the time when we were kids – it's not too far from here. They have excellent chocolate milk shakes."

She gave him a genuine smile. John sighed, a smile coming to his face as well.

"Yeah, okay," he answered with a surrendering nod. He picked her up off the counter effortlessly, "Is it in walking distance?"

"10 minutes," she replied.

"Betcha I can get you there in five," John winked, "its dark, we'll just be a streak beneath the streetlights."

"You're not going to run," Renee teased him as he carried her towards the door.

"Why not?" he questioned, "I need to run off some of this adrenaline. I won't go too fast – but besides, who will see us? Just tell me the way."

---

Renee and John sat at a back table in the restaurant, with a heaping plate of French fries in front of them to share. They each got their own milkshake, chocolate, of course. John at first seemed cautious when entering the restaurant, but they were greeted in a friendly manner by one of the waitresses. At that time of night, there weren't many people there – about eight or nine. None of them really had given John weird looks, although he had caught them do a double take at his height – or perhaps his abundance of scars, as he had walked by holding Renee's hand.

"What do you think?" Renee asked him, taking a sip of her milkshake, "Good, huh?"

"Yeah," John raised his eyebrows, "A lot better than the shit I've been eating for the past… thirty years. You know, after a while, those ration packs really… bland. It's like chewing on dirt."

"Don't even remind me," Renee shook her head, "I don't miss those things at _all_."

"You know, I've only had French fries, like, once," John made a face, holding one of them up to examine, "And it was when I was younger – just got my augmentations. I kind of forgot how good they are."

"Junk food is my secret favorite indulgence," she grinned, "Truly addictive sometimes. So, did you catch anyone eyeballing you?"

"No more than usual," John replied with a shrug, lowering his voice, "Even the waitress was surprised by my height. But nobody jumped up screaming 'Master Chief', which is good."

"Yeah," Renee smiled, "Let's just hope that doesn't happen at all."

"Let's just… stop talking about it," John said after a moment, eating a fry.

"Yes, sir," she raised her hand subtly to give him a quick salute, complete with a smirk. Then, she picked up a French fry and twirled it around for a moment, "What do you want to do tomorrow? We could do something outdoorsy…"

"Like what?" John asked, although he didn't seem to interested, "I'm just interested in making it through the night – have a nice sleep tonight without any nightmares. _Then _you can ask me what I want to do."

"We could go for a walk," Renee shrugged, "There are some hiking trails in the hills. That would be more out of the way of the eye of the public. I know some places that wouldn't be as popular as others. Don't forget I'm a LA native."

"Maybe," he answered, taking a big drink of the milkshake, then thoughtfully looked down into the glass, "This _is _really good."

"I told you," Renee smiled at him, "Best in LA, I believe."

"Exactly right!"

John and Renee turned to see a man, wearing a white apron and a casual t-shirt and jeans. He had blonde hair and blue eyes, and looked to be in his early forties. John glanced over to Renee, and saw her face light up.

"Thomas, is that you!?" she demanded.

"Indeed it is," the man grinned.

"Oh, John, I'd like you to meet my old friend Thomas Zimmerman, we went to school together – Thomas, this is my boyfriend John Bale!" Renee was quick to introduce them.

"Hello, John," Thomas extended his hand out to John, and he shook it, smiling slightly.

"Hi," he answered.

"Thomas used to work here when I was a teenager," Renee told John.

"Summer job, usually," Thomas said, "Dad gave the business to me, though. So, what do you think Renee, have I still upheld everything? The milkshakes are still good, are they?"

"Yeah, they're awesome," Renee smiled.

"Can I join you guys for bit, if you don't mind?" Thomas looked particularly to John.

"Sure," John shrugged.

Thomas eagerly sat down at the table with them, looking almost nostalgic.

"So, you're looking good! I haven't seen you since you were… eighteen, wasn't it? You came in on your last day before heading off to the Academy!" Thomas exclaimed.

"Thanks," Renee grinned, "You look good too."

"How was the war?" Thomas grimaced, "You lived, that's a good thing."

"It sent me into a coma for eighteen years," Renee shrugged, "But other than that, I'm fine."

"Really?" he demanded, "How harsh!"

"Yeah, but there's nothing I can do about it," Renee said, "I plan to make do with the rest of life I got left. Make it count, right?"

"Yeah, exactly, exactly," Thomas snapped his fingers, and he looked to John, "So, lucky man, how'd you come to meet this gem of a girl? You didn't go to school with us… because I don't remember you, I knew mostly everyone…"

"I met Renee in the war, actually," John answered.

"Oh, I see," Thomas nodded, "No offense, but you looked pretty roughed up."

"30 years of combat kinda does that to ya," John cracked a smirk.

"So, we're dealing with a veteran here!" he exclaimed, looking to Renee and then back at John, "Well, sir, I humbly thank you for doing your duty. I was too much of a wimp myself, besides, I don't like guns."

John nodded.

"Oh, so, how's Amy and Fish head?" Thomas asked, "Tell them to get in here sometime, I'd love to see them!"

"Amy's married, to Wayne Brown," Renee laughed.

"Lame Wayne?" Thomas laughed too, "That nerd? I remember I used to make fun of him in our Biology classes."

"He's a doctor now, quite successful, not as nerdy anymore," Renee smirked, "He's a father. They've got a son named Troy, after Troy Fisher…" her smile faded.

"Oh, no, what happened to Troy?" Thomas caught on quick, "He didn't make it to the NHL, did he."

Renee shook her head.

"He was killed in battle," she said after a moment, "In 2535."

"Aw, no," Thomas frowned, and he reached over and gave Renee's hand a squeeze – which John noted with a hint of jealousy – "I'm so sorry about that. Damn, waste of a good guy. You, he and Amy were always together like someone attached you at the hip. I'm sorry."

Renee nodded subtly, biting her lip hard.

"Thanks," she sighed.

"You knew Troy?" Thomas asked John.

"For a little while," he replied.

"He was a good guy," Thomas told him, "Real funny, as you probably know. When he was in your position, he treated Renee like she was gold. Never failed to make her laugh… and I'm sure you can do the same," Thomas smiled, and he looked at him for a moment, "You're a big guy, aren't you?"

"So I've been told," John shrugged, trying to ignore what Thomas had said before that. He wasn't nearly as funny as Troy Fisher had been, and he couldn't always make Renee laugh. But, he tried to think, he had other qualities. He _didn't _have to be funny; after all, he wasn't Troy Fisher. He was John.

"Were you one of those ODSTs?" Thomas asked, "You know, those guys that fall out of the atmosphere?"

"No," John replied, "Just a marine."

"What rank?"

"Staff Sergeant," he answered casually.

"Neat," Thomas nodded, "So, you're accustomed to ordering people around!" he chuckled, giving John a nudge, and winking at Renee, "You don't let him rule the roost, Kilburn, show him who's boss."

Renee smiled, and glanced over to John, and saw he actually looked pretty comfortable with Thomas' presence. He had an amused smirk slightly visible on his face – but she couldn't tell if it was genuine through and through or not.

"Did you know Renee used to be on the school's hockey team?" Thomas asked John.

"No," John answered, and decided against saying he didn't know what hockey was.

"She and Troy were a wicked pair," Thomas grinned, "Whenever our school would take on the other, that school's coach would always bitch to ours about not letting Kilburn and Fisher on the ice during the same shift – they were that good. Renee _was _clumsy sometimes, though – but fast on the ice. Troy had the moves – excellent at scoring goals, and Renee was great at getting the puck and flying down the ice to pass it off to Troy. But Amy, couldn't skate to save her life. She'd always be there to watch the games though." Thomas laughed.

Suddenly, the waitress, Stephanie, called over to him:

"Tom! We need you in the kitchen!" she grinned, and she looked to John and Renee, "Sorry guys if I'm interrupting anything."

"No, that's okay," Thomas said, getting up from the table, "Nice seeing you again, Renee. And, nice meeting you, John. Come back soon, I'll give you guys a discount!" he winked, "Off to cook some more stuff... life of a chef, huh."

"See you," Renee called after him, as he hurried behind the counter. He made a playful face to Stephanie and ran back into the kitchen.

"Cheerful guy, isn't he?" Renee remarked to John, with a grin.

"Yeah," John said wryly, "Maybe I can use him as a role model."

Renee laughed heartily.

"You don't have to be _that _happy," she answered, "It's just how Tom is – he makes lots of friends that way, that's for sure. He's like that to_ everyone_, whether he knows them or not. I wouldn't be surprised if he knows half the population of LA."

"You know, after the little bit he told me, I feel like I hardly know you," John said lowly, with a little smile.

"You never asked," she grinned, sipping at her milkshake, "And I'm not one to go spilling my stories of my teenage years all over the place."

"You actually had a life as a teenager, and you don't like reminiscing?" John raised an eyebrow, "Hell, when I was that age, I was on the battle field."

"Makes me sad sometimes," she answered truthfully with a shrug, "I mean, there was my teenage years, then this huge gap and bam, I'm an old lady. I missed out entirely on my twenties."

"You're not old," John told her, "What am I?"

"You hardly look your age," Renee snapped.

"Well neither do you."

"We're going to be funny when we're an old couple," she laughed.

"To you, we _are _an old couple," John joked, "You're the one calling yourself an old lady. If you're an old lady, I'm six feet under."

"You're only... forty... two?" she guessed.

"I think so," he shrugged, grinning.

"Well, stop it, you're not dead!" Renee laughed.

"You stop it," John looked at her seriously, but they both laughed together. John leaned back in his chair to crane his neck at the clock on the wall, "Jeez, its 22 hours already. We should probably head home."

"Yeah," Renee agreed, and she took one last sip of her milkshake. John did the same – and they both smiled at each other like lovers on a first date. Then, John took out his wallet from his back pocket.

"How much?" he asked, "This whole money this is ridiculous."

"You don't have to pay for me!" she told him.

"I am," he counted out a few bills, and set them carelessly on the table, "Money is trivial, or at least that's how I feel." He stood up, and held out his hand to Renee. She took it, and they headed towards the door. Stephanie said goodbye, and even Thomas poked his head out of the kitchen door to bid them farewell.

When they walked out onto the sidewalk, they both stopped to look up into the sky. The stars were brightly shining – visible even with the streetlights.

"Once you've been in space, you actually have an idea of how small we are," Renee remarked.

"Yeah," John replied, "Tends to make you feel... unimportant."

"You're important to me," She looked over to him, squeezing his hand, "You know that."

John turned and looked down at her, smiling slightly. He leaned down and kissed her on the lips.

"Thank you," he whispered.

---

When they had returned home, John and Renee were both tired – but John decided to cool down by taking a long thought provoking shower. For the longest time, he just stood there, letting the water cascade down his body – he let his eyes close and fell into a deep concentrated bout of thinking. He enjoyed this commodity – for on the ships and at the military bases, you would be allowed a ten minute shower tops – less than that on the ships due to limited water supply.

However, what after must have been fifteen minutes, he remembered Renee would probably be waiting for him. He quickly washed his hair and body, then stepped out of the shower, throwing a towel around his waist. Drying his feet on the mat, he tiptoed across the cool tile flooring to open the door adjoining the bedroom. He peeked out, and saw Renee was facing him, but her eyes were closed and she was still. She'd fallen asleep – even with the TV on.

He let out a little sigh, smiling. He couldn't blame her – it had been a truly exhausting day. John walked out into the room, and went into the walk-in closet, snapping on the light and getting a pair of boxers. He put them on – it was too humid of a night for anything else, and was going to go back out and crawl into bed – but a box on the top shelf of the closet caught his eye. "Stuff" had been hastily written on the side in permanent marker.

Curious as to the contents, John reached up and quietly took the box down from the shelf. Inside, he saw there was a bunch of books, papers and objects – all covered in a layer of dust. He spotted a flower, long since dried out. He was surprised the petals hadn't fallen off. Among the other things were a high school yearbook, a photo album, and several cards and folded up pieces of paper.

Sitting down quietly on the floor, John set the box beside him and pulled out one of the random pieces of paper. Unfolding it ever so cautiously, he saw it was a note, written in a messy scrawl – a man's writing. It said:

"_RenRen – I'm sorry I never got to give this to you earlier – teacher was watching me and Blaine pretty heavy – she would've nabbed it if she saw I'd been writing anything but the Bio sheet. Would've had it ready for ya by break – but oh well. _

_I don't know if I told you this, but your hair looks really beautiful today. I liked what you did with it – you should do it more often, if it isn't much trouble : ). _

_Tonight's game is 8. Hope you can be there, I heard you weren't feeling the best this morning. _

_Heard from a little bird that Amy's got the hots for Lame-o Wayne-o? Ya gotta talk to her and set her straight! Just kidding – suppose I'm lame if ya look at me the right way. _

_So, you can come over and chill at my house for dinner after the game? Sure your mom wouldn't mind. We're having pizza, my old man said, that is if we win. Probably will – long as they put us on same shift._

_Oh, did you hear? Recruiting station's starting up here for the UNSC. What's your thoughts? I'm thinking of joining. Write me back – make sure to go the long way to Eng so we'll pass each other._

_Love you lots RenRen_

_-T. Fish._"

John, after reading the note, stared at it for a long time – until finally he folded it back up and placed it back in the box. He glanced up to the bed, and saw Renee hadn't moved – she was still asleep. He was propelled to read the next piece of paper he removed from the box. It was another note, same handwriting.

_Did you hear about this girl? She's really beautiful, with brown hair, big pretty brown eyes, and a smoking hot body ;) and she's going out with this good looking guy named Troy Fisher. He must be a lucky bud. : )_

_I do believe that's a new way of complementing you, RenRen. _

_Don't deny the above facts._

_Good game last night! Who'd figure you'd score! I was like whoa, RenRen's got a goal! RENREN GOT A GOAL!!!!! Did ya hear me yelling that? Bet ya did, because I'm pretty sure I wickedly bear hugged you afterwards – just in case you don't remember! Yeah I know you remember. I give awesome hugs, I know. _

_Got a wicked bruise from that big guy who checked me – it's like almost my whole left side. Show it to ya at lunch. Will ya kiss it better for me? Just don't let anyone see ya on your knees. ;) We can save that for later, RIGHT RENREN *wink wink wink wink* _

_I love ya babe._

_The Luckiest Guy in LA_

_T. FISH._

John re-read the note again, not sure what to make of it. Troy's famous humor was obviously present in this note, but the last part made him feel uncertain – almost protective of Renee. But, Troy had been with her just as he was now. Troy loved her just as he did. It was just hard to accept.

He decided to take out another one of the folded papers and open it. This time, it wasn't a note, but a sketch – probably by Troy. It was making fun of Amy's attraction to Wayne. It showed a stick-man drawing of the two of them, holding hands and kissing by a set of lockers, and two other figures, probably Renee and Troy, watching with humorous expressions on their faces. At the bottom it simply read "The Truth!"

He couldn't hold back a smirk – and put the paper back into the box. This time, he decided to take out the photo album. Setting it on his knees, John opened it. The first sets of pictures were of the infamous trio – Renee, Amy and Troy. One of them sitting at a cafeteria table at school, another of them at what looked to be a school dance, arms around each other. The next page was dedicated to Renee and Amy. Amy holding Renee in a headlock, Renee in mid laughter. A simple shot of them sitting at their desks in a classroom, smiling with their heads close together. John flipped the page – now this was of Troy and Renee. There was a photo of Renee sitting on Troy's lap, her arms around his neck – the both of them smiling. Renee and Troy, formally dressed, holding hands. A goofy picture of them making weird faces at the camera – Renee sticking out her tongue and Troy's mouth skewered out of proportion, eyes crossed. A picture from a dance, taken from side on – Troy behind Renee, his hand cleverly placed on her butt, a mischievous look on his face, Renee, looking theatrically over her shoulder, pretending to look shocked. Then there was a shot, that initially made John's anger flare – Troy and Renee kissing, like something out of a movie. A heart sticker had been stuck on the picture just above their heads.

John exhaled, calming down. He continued to flip through the album. There was a photo of Renee, Amy and Troy standing on ice. Renee and Troy were dressed in big gear – hockey gear, John guessed – with helmets and hockey sticks. Amy was standing unsteadily beside them – in a big sweater and jeans – holding onto Troy for dear life – but they were all smiling.

He could understand now – or at least better than before, what Renee's life had been before she joined the UNSC. The pictures almost made him envious – of the teenage years of fun they'd shared – while he had been fighting.

John flipped to the final page, where it really took him back in time – a time to which he wasn't familiar. Renee, Troy and Amy, with pudgy faces and missing baby teeth – smiling with their arms around each other. They were about four feet tall – perhaps about the age of six or seven. Troy of course, was taller than the two girls – and he was in the middle – arms protectively around Renee and Amy. He had a dirty face, a missing front tooth – and like Amy and Renee, wore a big smile. Amy had her fuzzy red hair in pig tails, her face also dirty – and Renee's hair was in braids – she was just as dirty as the others and just as happy.

John stared at this photo for the longest time, and felt a deep sadness welling up inside him. Troy, the same little boy in the picture was now dead, long before his time. A deep friendship lost, the trio torn apart. Now, he could understand why Renee could so easily cry – how calling her RenRen brought tears to her eyes. How the mention of the past upset her. He wondered how many times since she had woken up from her coma had she looked in the contents of the box, perhaps in the same place he was sitting – and cried? How often had she re-read Troy's notes and looked over his drawings, how often had she flipped through the photos and gently touched the dried out rose?

Wordlessly, with a strange lump in his throat, John gently set the photo album back into the box, and got to his feet. He picked up the box and slid it carefully back into its place on the shelf. John, feeling the full extent of the tiredness now, turned out the closet light, walked over to the bed and crawled in beside Renee's sleeping form. He draped his arm around her, and closed his eyes.

In the darkness, Renee opened her eyes for a moment – having known what John had done. She let a tear slide down her cheek – but was somewhat relieved. He'd learned a lot that now; she wouldn't have to struggle to tell him.

**A/N: **More of an emotion fuelled chapter, I guess. No cliff hanger this time around. I enjoyed writing the last little bit, with John discovering the box. Just as he was learning things about Renee, I kind of was too, because most of it I made up right on the spot – so it was like I got to know my character a little better – made it more easier to actually visualize how John was feeling and be able to put into words. I could kind of feel the tears welling up near the end there... not the first time I've sat there writing through blurry vision. (When I had to write Troy's death in LOAS, I was literally sitting there sobbing and writing it – and my little brother was like, okay, what?) Just thought I'd remind you of my blog I have – I update it usually with every chapter post (all story related stuff!). The link is on my profile. , see you next chapter, hope you enjoyed it! – AB


	6. No Man's Land

**Chapter 6: No Man's Land**

**August 4th, 2553**

When John first woke up, he was almost astonished – as he drifted into consciousness and lifted his head lazily from the pillow, he saw the time on the bedside clock read 9:23 AM. He had slept with success - no nightmares, no insomnia, no waking up screaming in terror, the aftermath of a frightening dream flashing through his mind. He was even lying on the same side he'd fallen asleep on. Had he even moved?

However, he noticed, his arm was no longer draped around Renee's sleeping form, like how it had been when he fell asleep. Renee wasn't even there. The blankets on her side had been thrown back and the pillow still was indented. John looked to the bathroom – but the door was open and no one was inside.

What would she be up to?

Eager to bequeath his success of getting a full-night's sleep to her, John threw back the blankets and got out of bed – pausing only momentarily to wipe the sleep from his eyes and stifle a yawn in his cupped hand. Then, he walked out of the bedroom, down the hallway – trudging down the stairs with heavy footfalls. He remembered not long ago Renee had scolded him for "sneaking up on her", so he made sure that he would make his presence known to her.

John found her in the kitchen. She was already dressed, in a pair of jean shorts and a simple t-shirt. Her hair was wound up in a towel, balanced cleverly on the top of her head, indicating she'd had a shower. The phone was pressed to her ear as she looked out the window to the front lawn, listening, not talking. Her back was to him – and if she was aware he was there, she hadn't made any notion to greet him. The entire room smelled like coffee – the culprit being a steaming pot of it sitting on the counter. Two mugs had been set out.

"Yeah," she said into the phone, shifting her weight onto her other foot, "Mhm. I know. He wasn't pleased. Neither was I."

John pulled out a chair from the kitchen table, and Renee turned around, giving him a smile and a little wave. He guessed by her casualty that she was talking to Amy – who they'd both kind of forgot about after seeing the news on TV. She'd been the one to call them up and tell them about it – and Renee had hastily hung up on her. The two friends were talking, so he guessed there were no hard feelings about that incident. He wondered who had called who.

"John just woke up," Renee said, "Okay. Yeah, call me later. Or, we might drop by or something. Okay. Yup. Bye." She hung up, set the phone down on the counter, and turned to face him, a tired yet genuine smile on her face.

"I'm sorry, did I wake you up?" she asked softly.

"No," John shook his head.

"Good," she grimaced, "Cause I would've felt pretty guilty. You had a good sleep."

"I did actually," he grinned, "Not a single nightmare. In fact, I don't remember having any dreams at all."

"You want a cup of coffee?" Renee questioned, "I don't know if you like it or not…"

"Yes, please," he said.

She nodded and poured coffee into both mugs. She took the bowl of sugar from the cupboard and put three spoonfuls in hers.

"What do you take?"

"Nothing," John shrugged.

"It's bitter," she grinned over her shoulder at him.

"I know," he replied.

"Yuck," Renee laughed slightly, but she set his mug down in front of him. She proceeded to get the milk out of the fridge, "I like mine with lots of sugar, and some milk. Can't drink it otherwise," she explained as she readied her coffee to perfection. She took a sip, and nodded, sliding into the chair next to him, watching him as he took a drink of his preferred black coffee.

"It's good," John complemented, "Wakes me up."

"I think it would make me sick," she joked.

"You were talking to Amy?"

Renee nodded, taking a sip from her mug.

"What about?" John asked casually.

"I don't know," she shrugged, "Stuff. I called her, actually. I woke up early, couldn't go back to sleep so I took a shower and decided to phone her up. She's always up early, just after sunrise usually. But she goes to bed early, you see, Troy tuckers her out a lot of the time."

"That's not hard to believe," he raised his eyebrows, chuckling slightly.

Renee smiled slightly, looking down into the dirt brown coffee in her mug. She remembered waking from her sleep last night to see John, seated on the floor in the closet, with the box from the top shelf. Just the thought of the contents of the box made her feel a deep pit of sadness in her stomach. No one knew about the box besides Amy and her mother. Harriet had been the one to put all those things together when she had been in the coma.

She wasn't mad at John. She couldn't blame his curiosity, especially after hearing the little tidbits of the past from Thomas. John hadn't looked at everything, she had noted as she had watched him through half closed eyes. He'd looked at a couple of the notes, the photo album. The photo album was a weapon in itself. She only had to open it to the first page and it would choke her up. The first time she'd looked through it – sitting at the kitchen table when she'd just moved into this house – she'd sobbed hysterically.

It was too late – when she broke from her thoughts, she realized she had tears in her eyes. And clever John, he didn't miss anything. He was looking at her, a concerned look on his face.

"What's wrong?" he asked lowly, setting his cup of coffee back on the table.

"Nothing," she answered. After a few moments, she sniffled, wiping a tear from the corner of her eye. Taking a deep breath, she looked back up to John, and saw he was still watching her, patiently waiting for the truth. She told him:

"You found the box."

For a moment, John's expression was blank, then his cheeks became slightly flustered – a look of guilt washing over him. How did she know? Had the contents of it been in a specific order? Before he could reply, Renee smiled, laughing weakly.

"I wasn't asleep," she answered his question, "And I'm not mad." She had to pause for a moment to keep her composure, "You… understand better, now, don't you?" she kept one hand tight around the warm mug, but her other hand – her fingers were drumming the table incessantly, "Understand why… it's difficult for me, whenever anyone brings up the past…"

"Yes." John replied lowly.

"To me, it was like it was yesterday," she said, her voice faltering. A tear slipped down her cheek, and she furiously wiped it away, sniffing loudly, "Because there's nothing between now, and 2535. Nothing. The memories haven't had time to fade. A lot of them I can replay in my head like a movie."

"I know what you mean," John agreed, "I can remember the past, thirty some years of my life with no difficulty."

"You wish you could forget some things," Renee wiped at her eyes again, forcing herself to smile, "Right?"

"Yeah." He nodded, looking at her for a moment before deciding to reach across the table to place his hand over hers, giving it a squeeze. Her nervously tapping fingers stopped, and she let out a sigh – meeting his eyes.

"I love you," she said in a whisper.

"Likewise," John gave her a little smile. He pulled his hand back – and while he was thinking of it, he quickly got up and got his pill for the day. As the little blue oval of a pill tumbled out into his hand, John found himself extremely grateful for it. To think, a little thing such as this made his sleep a success – aside from a headache, they were already improving his life style.

Feeling Renee's eyes on his back, John threw the pill into his mouth and swallowed it – screwing the cap back onto the bottle and setting it back on the counter. He turned around, and saw Renee wasn't looking at him now, she was once again tapping her fingers against the table – a habit that he never knew she had. It must've been one she had recently acquired – he had no memory of her doing any such thing in 2535.

"I feel tired," she suddenly said.

"Maybe you woke up too early," John answered, coming up behind her and bending down to kiss her on the cheek – however, she turned her face so he got her lips instead, tasting of coffee. He shivered as he felt her run her hands down his bare chest – they were a little on the cold side.

John reached up and tugged the towel from her hair, and let it drop to the floor. He broke the kiss to smell her hair; it had a delicious fruity scent to it. He looked into her eyes.

"We can go back to bed," he said ever so softly.

"For a little while," she sighed, defeated.

"For a little while." John agreed.

--

John was in the bedroom closet, picking out a pair of cargo pants and a plain t-shirt to throw on. Renee was standing behind him, peeking around him to observe his wardrobe. She could count every one of his garments on one hand.

"Hmm," she declared, "We need to get you more clothes."

"I'm not a fashion icon," John muttered, tugging on his pants.

"I'm not asking you to become one," she told him, "It's just good if you have a variety of clothes. They don't have to be designer. Used clothing stores could work if that's what you're up for."

"This is going to be a dangerous mission," he answered as he pulled a grey t shirt over his head, "Suicide, even. Go out into the streets of Los Angeles, hoping that no one recognizes me just so I can buy some trivial clothing items." His mood momentarily soured, "If anyone comes up to me and asks me a question, I'll give you ten seconds to get them away from me before they wind up on the other side of the street, thrown into a shop window like a disaster mannequin."

"I… have something for you," Renee said after a moment, and she turned away. John was surprised to see her stand on her tiptoes and get down the box he'd been looking in the night before. Seeing it made him feel guilty of trespassing – even though she'd seen him with it and told him it hadn't bothered her. She set it on a lower shelf, rummaged in it for a moment, then withdrew a pair of Aviator style sunglasses – mirrored cleverly so one's eyes couldn't be seen. Putting the box back in its place, she turned around and held the glasses out to him.

"They were Troy's," she said softly, "I'm not going to wear them. I think they would look good on you."

"But…" he began.

"Take them!" Renee said impatiently, pushing the glasses into John's hands, "Put them on, they're yours now."

John looked down at the sunglasses then up at Renee. What was she trying to do? Or prove? These glasses had been Troy's, Troy had worn them. Now she was trying to get him to wear them. It might be a simple passing on of an item that she didn't use, like she had said, or was it more? Was she getting some type of comfort from seeing the glasses in use again? Was she trying to pretend he was Troy? The last thought he brushed off as completely ridiculous, but he knew that she wasn't doing this simply because she didn't use them. There was something she was trying to prove or show, and he guessed it was mostly internal. She was trying to prove something to herself. What it was exactly, though, he couldn't be sure - and he didn't really want to ask, the subject was touchy enough as it was.

He broke from his thoughts to see Renee was still looking at him, waiting – with an almost accusing look on her face, like as if she'd be offended if he didn't wear them. After a beat, John finally put them on – they fit him. Through the tinted glass, he saw a smile come onto Renee's face.

"How do I look?" John asked, "I do believe this is the first time I've worn sunglasses…" he chuckled a little.

"There's a mirror out there," Renee told him.

John gave a little sigh, and walked back out into the bedroom, stopping in front of the full length mirror on the wall. Of course, he was a little too tall, so he had to crouch to see his face. The man looking back at him in the mirror, for a moment was unrecognizable. John smiled, and the man in the mirror smiled back – an almost arrogant grin. He frowned.

Was that what his smile looked like all the time?

"I'd like to see anyone recognize you now," Renee grinned, "I bet even Amy would have to do a double take," she calmed herself down a bit, giving him a more gentle smile, "You look good."

"Thanks," he muttered. Even now, he had never been able to take compliments well. Most of his accomplishments were just part of a normal day for him – including looking "good" (he did nothing to alter his appearance in order to achieve a certain look) – so when someone complimented him, he never knew how to take it because he simply never thought it was anything special. For him, complimenting on his super strength would be like complimenting on a person's ability to walk, or talk, hear, or smell. You didn't really think about doing those things – it was just a part of being human. It was just considered the norm.

However, Renee was right in one way – they did make an excellent disguise. People's eyes – if they didn't have any truly unique facial features, is what made them the most recognizable. Now that he had covered his eyes, and the majority of his thick eyebrows, he did look different. The scars however, were a dead giveaway to anyone who would know him well. As for the other people of Los Angeles who could be on a particular look out for a potential Master Chief (the news today had said that people were looking for him everywhere), they would be probably fooled completely.

That eased his nerves – but only a little.

---

John opened the door of the car and stepped out onto the sunny sidewalk. He adjusted his sunglasses on his nose – they'd slipped down a little due to the sunscreen Renee had lathered him with. Sunscreen, he detested the stuff. Upon the first acquaintance with it, John concluded that it smelled rather good, but made him feel like he had taken a bath in the oil that the technicians used to use for MJOLNIR armor. When he wiped his face – his hands felt just as disgusting – and rubbing them on his pants didn't seem to get rid of the feeling. But: what General Renee said went. No objections – at least in this situation.

He'd tried to object when she took the bottle and approached him with it – but she had cleverly fooled him by telling him she just wanted to put a dab on his nose. Before he knew it, there was a glob on his nose, cheeks, chin and forehead – and she'd stood back and told him to rub it in. His attempt to rush the nearest bathroom towel was a failure. Seeing this persistent side of Renee assured John that she could've been a very good (and strict) drill sergeant.

John glanced to his right, and then left – as people passed by on the sidewalk, they didn't even look at him – or so he could see. Sunglasses were the thing, John realized. He certainly wasn't the odd one out in that category at least; men and women alike were wearing them – most of them were like his. Mirrored or darkly tinted so their eyes were hidden. Renee walked around to meet him, stepping up on the curb. She momentarily tripped – but quickly caught her balance, and tried to pretend she hadn't. John smirked – her clumsiness hadn't gone anywhere.

He took her hand tightly.

"I won't let you fall," he muttered into her ear.

She gave him a look that made him want to laugh.

"Nervous?" she asked, changing the subject as they began to walk casually down the street.

"Not exactly, paranoid would be a better word to describe it." John replied as he glanced calmly at the people as they walked past. None of them turned their head particularly in his direction – but they looked at him upon passing. None of them said anything though. It was his height, probably. He towered over everyone on the street – he made the guys who were six feet look small. He waited for someone to jump out of the crowd and grab his arm, yell "Master Chief, look, it's Master Chief!" But that didn't happen.

He kept walking – still, nothing happened.

Could it be possible? He was baffled – it wasn't often that he had walked anywhere without anyone addressing him, whether it be a marine, fellow Spartan or a commanding officer. Hell, even the Covenant knew who he was. He wasn't walking around with the armor though, he reminded himself.

"Satisfied with my disguise?" Renee asked him ever so slowly.

"Quite."

"A disguise that really isn't one," she explained, "Practically everyone in LA owns a pair of sunglasses. Celebrities rely on them like you relied on your weapon. Life or death situation, you would think – in a way, you _are _a celebrity," she smiled up at him, "Only the paparazzi haven't found you yet."

"The world knows my face," John raised a brow.

"Yes, your unshaven, bloody, dirty face," Renee corrected, "The one I'm looking at right now is an entirely different deal."

"The world knows my name," he tried again.

"Do you realize how many people are named John?" she squeezed his hand, "It's not exactly an uncommon name. Just calm down, relax. You're doing well. We've made it a block so far – only a couple more to go before we reach the shopping center. You'll love it."

"I only love you," John quickly leaned down and kissed her on the forehead. The oncoming people to walk by didn't think this odd either. None of them pointed and shouted "That's unacceptable!" or whispered to one another and gave him accusing looks.

It was like Renee could read his mind. When he looked back down at her, she had a small smile on her face.

"Kissing in public isn't a crime," she whispered, "Although it can make some people feel awkward. It's not like Troy Fisher is lurking around any corners, anyway."

John was surprised at this – it sounded like she poked fun at the time Troy had caught them sharing their first kiss aboard the _Hercules_. Remembering that situation made him feel embarrassed and angry – but it didn't exactly make sense, why would Renee bring up Troy's absence as a joke?

"That's assuring," he simply said – deciding not to openly question her actions.

"I bet you feel tall," Renee continued after a moment.

"Just a little," he mused, "Another moment where I wish I could be more like Fred."

"We already discussed this," she looked up at him, "I..."

"Like me for who I am, yes, I know," John sighed, giving her a little grin.

Renee nodded, squeezing his hand again. John gave her a little squeeze back, bringing her hand up so he could kiss it quickly. Once again, the passing people – a new array, a woman in jogging gear, a businessman in a suit carrying a briefcase, a young girl walking her dog - a little yappy type that was all fur and eyes. They didn't even pay attention to him – John felt accepted by these waves of people so far. He felt normal, like his name and face hadn't been revealed on the news the previous night as Master Chief.

Suddenly, he was jerked from his thoughts when a young boy – probably about eighteen or nineteen, ran up to them. John felt the little color he had in his face disappear, he held his breath – waiting for the accusation, the question, the "I saw you somewhere before" to begin.

But instead, the boy looked apologetic.

"Sorry, but do you know where the closest bus terminal is?" he questioned, looking from John to Renee.

As LA native Renee gave him directions, John had to remember to breathe. He sucked in a lungful of air and exhaled it deeply, watching as the boy thanked her and hurried off down the street. Renee instantly looked up to him.

"You okay?" she asked.

"Yeah," he exhaled again, "I thought he was gonna..."

"Me too, for a second," Renee smiled, "We're okay though. Maybe not many people watched the news last night."

"Hah," John shook his head, "Kids probably don't."

"He wasn't really a kid," Renee made a face at him, "I was around his age when I met you. And, I think you're just _too _paranoid. He didn't have anything on his mind but getting to the bus. I'm pretty sure he could've run up to one of the disguised movie stars around here and asked them for directions and didn't care who they were. Besides, when I told you that you were hardly recognizable, it's the truth."

"There's disguised movie stars around here?" John raised an eyebrow, looking at the people passing by.

"Around LA," She explained, "I don't know about this street. Maybe – I wouldn't know most of them now anyway. I haven't had time for celebrity gossip, neither has most of the world. That's what I found so funny, even with a war going on as serious as it was, there'd still be celebrities who thought the cameras should be on them, the news about them. I don't know one single celebrity who gave up their giant mansion, million dollar car and protection of their money to go off and fight."

"Then I'm _not _a celebrity," John said flatly.

"But you are," Renee raised her eyebrows, "You're a celebrity that did things the right way. You're an example to everyone else."

"No, but I'm _not _a celebrity," he repeated, "I don't want the news to be about me, I don't want to be on camera... I _hate _cameras."

"I know that," Renee grinned, "I saw you one time on the news, a short clip – you were in your armor, with Sergeant Johnson, on the Cairo. I'd just woken up from my coma actually. You looked at the camera and were like '_You told me there wouldn't be any cameras_'."

John chuckled at her imitation.

"I did say that," he nodded.

"Okay, you're _not _a celebrity," she laughed.

"Thanks, I said that originally," he joked.

"Oh!" Renee gestured up ahead a little ways, "ATM machine. You don't have any cash on you, do you?"

"No," John shrugged.

"You can get some money then," she said, dragging him over to it, "You used one of these before, right?"

"Once," John shrugged again, "In Miami."

He tapped the screen a few times, typed in his pin number – and his account came up on screen, showing his balance. Suddenly, he heard Renee gasp from beside him. He turned abruptly to look down at her, but saw she was staring at the ATM machine's screen.

"What?" John asked.

"That's the right amount?" she questioned, looking utterly bewildered.

John looked back to the screen.

"I think so, yes?" he looked back to her, not understanding.

"John, you're a _millionaire_!" she almost shrieked – but kept her voice down.

"Am I?" John asked, almost dully.

"Two million dollars!" she grinned at him.

"Well I don't know how much that's worth," he shrugged, "Does it matter? How much should I withdraw? I took out two hundred last time, which was too much..."

Renee didn't answer, she looked from him, back to the screen once more.

"Do you understand what this means?" she asked, her mouth hanging open.

"What?" John demanded, totally confused.

"You can _buy _your privacy! You can buy anything you want!" she laughed, "You have more money that Amy, Wayne, my parents and I combined! Times like five!"

John didn't say anything. He selected a hundred dollars withdrawal on the screen, the machine churned and the money came out. He grabbed it hastily and shoved it into his back pocket. He finished his transaction and the ATM machine went back to the welcome screen.

"That's not what I want," he muttered – reaching out and taking Renee's hand and continuing down the street.

"What do you want?" Renee demanded, jerking him back to the side of the sidewalk – back towards the nearest alleyway, "What more could you want?'

"I don't want anything," John shook his head, looking irritated, "I have everything I want. You. Now let's go, you wanted me to get new clothes." He grabbed her hand again, but she leaned back against his strength.

"No, just a minute," she said, "I want to try and understand! You can sue the news if you want to! With two million dollars, you can do a lot. You can get them to remove your name and destroy the videos."

"That's what Lord Hood is going to do," John sighed, "Look. If you want the money, it's all yours, Renee. You can buy whatever you want with it. I don't want it, I don't need it, I won't use it. If you'll use it, well, it'll be put to use. Give some to Amy too, give some to your parents if you want. I don't care. Give Troy a million dollar birthday present, whenever his birthday is. I don't care what you do with it. Okay?"

"I don't want your money," Renee shook her head; "It's yours."

"I'm not going to use it," John repeated, leaning down closer to her face to get the point across, "Understand?"

"Why do you hate it so much?" she demanded, not understanding.

"It's useless!" he cried, "Trivial! Pointless!"

"It's what makes the world go around," Renee answered, "If I didn't have money, I'd be on the street. I'd have no house, no car – and my parents helped me out with that even! The UNSC gave me some money for injury compensation or something – but not much."

"I'll have the money transferred to your account," John said softly, "I want you to have it, you need it, you just proved to me you need it. I don't need anything in life but food, water, oxygen, and you."

"That's really sweet, but you can't go on being ignorant of the importance of money," She replied, "What if something happened to me? What then?"

"Nothing is going to happen to you," he almost snarled, "Don't say that. I know how to use money if I have to. But I'm not going to go out, buy myself so many clothes I'll never wear them all, or a car I'll never drive, or a house with half of the rooms I won't use."

"I'm not asking you to," Renee sighed, "I was just trying to point out that..."

"Okay," John swiped his hands through the air in a cutting motion, "I get it. I get your point. Let's just end this. We're arguing about stupid things, Renee. Let's go, get those things we need to get, and then go home, and think nothing else of it."

She was going to object, but she knew him well enough by now, that one he had an opinion he couldn't be easily swayed into thinking any different. Maybe that's why he made it as a MCPO. She sighed, admitting a non-verbal defeat. John's hatred for money – she could understand it. He never needed it before – he lived through his entire life without it, he didn't like change. He didn't like to try new things, she realized that by now. John, his whole life, had gone by a routine, gone by orders. Now the UNSC had let him off the leash and told him to run free – to let him run around the park so to speak.

It was overwhelming for him. To have no orders, to hold no weapon, to wear no armor, to kill no Covenant. He had come here for her, and only her. He said he wanted a normal life, but had no idea what that would be like. Now he was beginning to see. Renee could tell he was having difficulty accepting a "normal life" for what it was. Perhaps it wasn't what he expected. Perhaps he hadn't expected at all – charged blindly into something just because he knew he could be with her.

John had no interest in the trivial things in life, mostly because he never knew them. To him, everything in his life up until now had a strong purpose – unlike shopping, buying cars, buying clothes, watching TV. He always had had a plan, had a goal. It had been all set out for him by means of the military. He knew no "freedom" per se. This, besides the short six years of his life when he hadn't been a part of the Spartan program, was the first time he had been able to do basically whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted.

He was lost. There was no map for how to live your life, no orders.

But they _could _make a plan. They _could _make goals.

Renee didn't object as John led her out of the shadows of the alleyway, and they continued down the street like everything was normal. That word, normal – what was the definition of normal? Everyone had a different idea of normal. To John, normal was fighting, serving for humanity, giving orders, taking them. Now he had to relearn someone else's idea of normal – forget the one he knew.

She felt an urge to comfort him, to pull his face down to hers and kiss him. But, the street was no place for that sort of kisses and comforting. John probably wouldn't enjoy it at the moment anyway, even if they weren't on the sidewalk.

"You know what?" John said after a few moments in a rather negative tone, "I just realized, not including here and Miami, the last city I walked in was destroyed."

---

The purchasing of new clothing didn't go along exactly as planned. John's cheerfulness had dwindled since the conversation in the alleyway, he didn't smile – his face had gone into that expressionless mode. He didn't remark on the shopping center, he followed Renee to the stores, purchased a few shirts and a pair of jeans without much enthusiasm. The idea of it didn't excite him the slightest, Renee was almost embarrassed to stand next to him while he muttered dull comments to the store clerk who tried to help him find clothes to his taste. He seemed to lose his confidence a bit, too. He was nervous, and always made sure his sunglasses were pushed up fully on his nose.

No one came out and asked him any questions, or approached him declaring he was Master Chief. For that, Renee was thankful. John had become bitter and if that had happened, she didn't really want to think about how he would react.

When the excursion was over, and they had walked back to the car, John threw his shopping backs into the backseat, and got into the car, almost slamming the door shut. Renee got in and closed the door – shutting out all outside noise. It was quiet for a moment. Renee had had plans to go get groceries and something for lunch with John, but she guessed he would want to stay home.

She looked over at him, and saw him put his hand up to his face, where he massaged his temples, letting out a sigh, dropping his head so his chin almost touched his chest.

"I'm sorry," he muttered.

"Headache?" she questioned softly.

"Yes," he breathed, as if talking any louder would hurt him.

"When did it start?"

"ATM machine, and no, it wasn't your fault."

"Why didn't you say something?" Renee reached over to set her hand on his leg.

John simply shook his head.

"You should know me well enough by now," John sighed, "And I don't mean to make it apparent. I'm sorry, I'm ruining things again."

"No, you're not," she told him as she set the destination for the auto-pilot, "You never ruin anything."

"My head feels like it's going to explode," he admitted. As if on cue, his data pad beeped, a rather loud high pitched beep. He groaned, drawing it out of his pocket and handing it to Renee, "It's probably Lord Hood or Cortana – requesting a voice call. Just press accept on the screen and talk for me."

Renee did as she was told – and she felt bad when another beep sounded from the data pad. A robotic voice said, "Now connecting you to your call, please wait."

It was connected in two seconds.

"Hello?" Renee spoke first, holding the data pad to her ear. This data pad was quite the deal, considering all it allowed him to do. And then John said he didn't like the trivial things. Well, in a way, it wasn't trivial. It was his only connection to Cortana, Lord Hood and all those in the UNSC he left behind.

"Hello?" a smooth female voice answered. It was clearly Cortana.

"Cortana, this is Renee. John has a headache right now, he told me to answer..." Renee explained almost uncertainly. It was still awkward to be speaking with Cortana – after all, she was just an AI.

"Oh. Well, just tell him that so far there is no success in finding the guy who released the security tapes," Cortana explained, "Lord Hood has people searching, but it's like this man fell off the face of the earth. He's probably gone into hiding with a new alias – it's been made quite clear that if he's caught, he will be in a whole lot of trouble..." Cortana paused, "I can trust you with this information?"

"Yes." Renee replied, "Of course you can."

"Hmm." Cortana answered, "Well, that's about all the information I've got so far – although Lord Hood plans to make a personal visit to the news broadcaster who originally played the first tape and released the information that was given to them about John. I'll let you know what happens. Tell John I miss him, and that I hope his headache gets better."

"I will," Renee nodded.

"Thanks," she replied, and then there was a static noise and a click. Renee lowered the data pad from her ear and turned to look at John.

"Do I need to..." she began.

"I heard everything," John answered softly, a little smile coming on his face.

"I figured you would," Renee laughed lightly. John reached over and took her hand in a vice-like grip, and kissed her ever so gently on the lips.

---

John lay back, relaxed on the couch, his arms folded behind his head. Renee had dropped him off and had continued on to pick up a few things without him. Reluctantly, John had taken a pain killer, and his headache was slowly getting better. It didn't always pound with each heartbeat.

It was different being alone in the house – with Renee not being there with him. It was the first time they had been apart since he'd arrived at her front door. At first, John was overcome by a need to rush out after her, put aside his headache and stay by her side and endure the purchasing of the groceries that was needed – but he knew Renee could handle herself. He managed to stay calm and just stay on the couch, thinking deeply to himself.

His mind went back to the touchy memories of the war – he could remember them, but they didn't overwhelm him. John, upon allowing his mind to lazily troll through those memories, made him think how much a part of him still wanted to be in the Mark VI armor, to still hold his assault rifle, to still be out on the field, living off the rush of adrenaline and murdering Covenant by the endless waves.

Then there was this other part that detested even the thought of it. That part was done with the fighting, done with the snug fit of his armor, done with the UNSC. That part of him never wanted to go back or have anything to do with it again. That was the scarred side. That was the part of him that died when his Spartans were murdered on Reach, the side that had turned him cold to the outside world, which had numbed the pain with just being silent, emotionless.

John raised his hand and looked at it. Without even thinking heavily about it, he was able to form the shape his hand had been in for a long time, holding onto the grip of the gun, trigger finger slightly bent. If he thought enough about it, it was like he could still feel the assault rifle in his hand. He gently curled his finger – and then in a split second made the squeeze that would've fired the weapon – probably a well dispersed burst into a Grunt's head.

He sighed, and let his hand fall back down.

It seemed so far off now – but if he could close his eyes, he could put himself back there.

Suddenly, the phone rang – causing him to startle. But John reached out and snatched the phone off the coffee table and he put it to his ear.

"John," he answered rather calmly. He almost put the 117 on the end, but quickly stopped himself.

"Hey buddy, what's up?!" It was Amy. For some reason, something was inspiring her to speak with a Southern accent.

"Nothing," John replied, "Just thinking."

"Oh that's always good," Amy put her voice back to normal, "Where's my Renee at?"

"She's gone out," he answered, "Groceries."

"I see, and she left you behind?" Amy scolded, "How horrible."

"No, I wanted to stay. I have a headache," John explained, "I was out earlier – and with success. No one recognized me, or at least if they did no one came running up to me."

"Great," Amy answered, "Although I do say, if I find out who released that video of you, I will personally hunt them down and kill them!"

"They know who it is, I know who it is, although they're searching for him with no avail."

"Bastard," she muttered, "Some people just have no consideration. Did the guy forget you were human, too, or what? What the hell was that guy thinking – you were an Elite? Shoot all those squid heads but when it comes to you, I'll defend you like you're my baby, John. They don't need to be talking about you like they are."

"The Elites are our allies as well," John corrected her.

"I don't trust those fucking assholes!" Amy shrieked, "If you remember correctly, that big-ass Elite was the one who killed Troy. And almost killed Renee! I still don't understand what the hell the UNSC was thinking when we joined sides with those split-chinned lizards."

"We had to put aside our differences, Amy," John said, "We wouldn't have won the war without them. It may be true they killed millions of our kind, but we did the same to them."

"The only reason why those fuckers came running to us is because _they _were getting their leathery asses kicked by the Flood. They wanted _our _help because they knew it would benefit _them_," Amy exhaled, her ranting was equivalent to that of an angry drill sergeant, "This topic always pisses me off so much! Why did you even start this with me? Let's change the subject."

"Agreed," John answered dully, "What did you want originally?"

"To talk to Renee, ask her a question," She replied, 'But she's not here. So, Spartan boy, how are you doing besides the nasty headache?"

"I'm doing alright, I guess."

"You don't sound too cheerful," was Amy's almost immediate response.

"I'm not."

"Well, when Renee comes home, get her to... make you happy," Amy said. John could tell by this selective censorship that her son must be somewhere close by. He let out a sigh.

"Is that your answer to everything?" he questioned.

"No," Amy laughed, "For anything wrong with you, though, yes. You took my advice before, don't deny it this time, and take it again."

"Do you ever want to be back in the UNSC?" John blurted out, changing the awkward subject, "Do you ever miss it?"

"What the fuck are you, a journalist?" Amy spat, although her voice was brimming with laughter, "No, of course I don't! My life began _after _the UNSC. Not when I was in it. As far as I'm concerned I don't want to ever pick up a gun again as far as I live. Or see another alien, either." She paused for a moment, but when John didn't say anything, she continued, "Why?"

"I was just wondering," John answered.

"Don't wander too far, you might get lost!" Amy howled.

"Ha ha," he replied, slightly amused.

"Sorry, John, just joking," Amy replied, "That was bad, I know. Well, I have to go. Just tell Renee when she gets back that I want her to call me – it doesn't have to be any specific time or right when she gets home. Whenever she can, okay?"

"Alright."

"See ya, hot stuff." Amy giggled.

"Bye."

John hung up the phone and tossed back onto the table, letting out another deep sigh. He folded his arms behind his head once more and went back to thinking. Amy's words replayed over in his head. She had answered his question like he had asked her something insane.

Well, how sane of a question was it, anyway?

The war was over, she had a family – and he had gone ahead and asked her if she wanted to rejoin as a marine. It_ was _a stupid question – but it was what had been on his mind. If it was a bad idea for Amy, it would be a bad idea for Renee. And a bad idea for him.

Or so he would try and convince himself – until then, he would have to calm his trigger finger – that all of a sudden seemed very eager to pull the trigger that wasn't there.

**--**

**A/N: **This chapter took a little longer than the others to compose, and for that I'm sorry, even if it was just a couple of days. I'm not going to say much about the next chapter – but it is the magical number 7 (already!), and something very interesting is going to happen. Until next time, enjoy this one. –AB


	7. Expect the Unexpected

**Chapter 7:**

** Two Weeks Later**

** August 18****th****, 2553 – Los Angeles, CA**

John paced around the house in his bare feet, having to duck a little as he walked through the doorways. His fists were clenched, knuckles white. Jaw was set, eyes narrowed into slits, the color of them black. Face was flushed, he was breathing heavily through his nose. He was circling the entrances to the living room like a shark would circle a boat. The living room doors, both of them, were shut. He was shut out visually, but not audibly. As he walked up and down the hallway, in through the kitchen and back, he could hear every single word that was being said from both of the people inside - the higher, pleading voice of Renee, the lower, negative voice of her mother, Harriet.

It had happened so abruptly, he and Renee had been sitting on the couch talking casually, when Renee's mother knocked on the door. She seemed upset, and announced that she wanted to talk to Renee. Her tone towards John when he had answered the door had been unbelievably unfriendly.

Harriet proceeded to go into the living room to Renee – and John had followed, not saying a word. As Harriet sat down in the chair across from Renee, she didn't say anything for a moment. Then, she had turned to John and abruptly told him "Can't you see I want to speak to Renee alone?" John had felt a surge of anger; Harriet had addressed him as if he was stupid. He had left the living room, not saying a word – and unintentionally slammed the door.

Now, he was out here in the hallway, getting more and more enraged by each passing second.

The mother-daughter conversation had begun rather unpleasant, with Renee lowly asking her mother why she was so rude to John by asking him to leave.

"He's the reason why I came to see you," Harriet had replied.

To which Renee has responded with a rather bewildered "Why?"

John let the conversation drift into his ears – each word taking him back to the days of Troy Fisher, where the Lieutenant had similar, sheltered opinions about him – he, at that time had been the equivalent to the enemy.

"At first, when I had seen that the video of him had been released," Harriet was saying, in a quick, hushed voice, "I hadn't really thought much about it. But now, people have been talking. They're bringing to light that he is dangerous – and what Spartans are capable of doing to people. How if they are enraged they have the ability to kill a normal person with just a punch alone! I just saw him get angry just now, slam the door! I'm surprised he hasn't broken anything in your house yet. I don't trust him with you; I don't trust him at all. All you need to do is get him angry, and don't think you won't! All couples bicker, Renee. I don't want to hear that my daughter has been killed or brutally battered to near death by her... boyfriend."

"That is bullshit, Mom," Renee quickly replied, "How do those people know what John is capable of? What Spartans are like? They've never met him – they're making opinions based on rumors. The only person who knows the full extent of the Spartan's abilities is the Spartans themselves and Dr. Halsey – and they're all MIA. I know John, I love John. I trust John with my life. He would never hurt me. Ever."

"I don't want you with him anymore," Harriet declared, "Give him three days to get his things and leave."

"No!" Renee said, "I will _never _leave him. Eighteen years of my life has been wasted, Mom. I'm almost forty, and I've hardly gotten to experience life. I'm not married, I don't have a family, I haven't travelled! But I have found the man I want to spend the rest of my life with. I almost lost him once; I'm not going to ever give him up. If he goes, I go." There was a pause. Silence. "You haven't even given him a proper chance, Mom," Renee sounded like she was crying, "Why do you have to be so judgemental? You hardly know him – you're no better off than the people on the news that are making up these reports. Give him a chance to prove himself worthy."

"There was only one person worthy in my eyes," Harriet replied softly, "You know that."

"And he's dead!" Renee was shrieking now, "I watched him die! I heard his last words, I saw him take his last breath, Mom Why can't you accept that he's dead? I have! There's no bringing him back! Troy is gone. Gone!"

John clenched his fists tighter as he heard Renee break down fully. He couldn't see her, but he knew what she would be like, how she would look. He was angry – Harriet was upsetting Renee and upsetting him. He didn't care whether Harriet liked him or hated him. But he _did _care that Harriet was hurting Renee's feelings.

"How long can you expect to keep him hidden here?" Harriet changed the subject – obviously upset by Renee's references to Troy, "Eventually, someone will see him. Then you won't have any peace! You'll have people lining up at the door, with cameras and mics wanting to ask him questions."

"If that happens, we can move," her daughter replied softly.

"Why are you being so oblivious?"

"Oblivious to what? If anyone's being oblivious, it's you. John is a perfect example of how any man should treat a woman. He may have been a soldier but he's just as much a gentleman! He hasn't done you wrong, has he?"

"Your father and I both don't care for him."

"Don't speak for Dad; he's different than you are! He doesn't listen to everything he hears on the news. He met John last week, and seemed to have no problem with him."

"He thinks he's dangerous."

"Anybody can be dangerous! Even me! I haven't forgotten the things I learned in the academy. I can shoot a gun, throw a grenade, and detonate a bomb! So can Amy. So could Troy. Does that make us too dangerous to be around people too?"

"I'm leaving, Renee. Hopefully you can realize the truth and come around," Harriet said after a while. There was a pause, "I care about you."

No response from Renee's side.

John paused in the hallway as he heard the living room door open. He saw Harriet walk out – she glanced in his direction, pausing. John just stood there; looking at her – aware the expression on his face was rather ugly – similar to an expression that would be on his face if he were facing one of the Covenant.

"Don't you take this out on Renee," Harriet told him bitterly.

"I would never hurt her." John managed to choke out.

"How can I believe you?" she asked.

"Unlike the news, I'm a reliable source," he answered firmly, "But if you want to hate me, go ahead. You're not the first, and certainly won't be the last."

Harriet said nothing to this, she opened the front door.

"I will never leave Renee," John spoke as she went to leave. She paused, but didn't turn around. John continued, "She means everything to me. I would never hurt her. I love her. I would die for her. Understand that."

Harriet once again said nothing – she walked out of the house and shut the door behind her – leaving silence in the house. John took a deep breath, and walked into the living room, where he saw Renee still sitting on the couch, staring off into space – but she glanced to him almost instantly.

"I'm so sorry," she said.

"You don't have to apologize," John answered, not moving further into the room.

"My Mom thinks everything she hears on the news is real. She believes _them _over me. I _know _you, she doesn't. They definitely don't."

"She's hung up on Fisher's death." John said, "I can tell by the way she looks at me."

Renee nodded.

"You heard everything, I know that much."

"How could I not?" John muttered.

"She'll come around eventually," Renee said in a small voice, talking more to herself than John, "Dad'll talk her into it, or something. She doesn't think you're good enough. She thinks you're going to kill me. She's crazy."

"Maybe if I started playing hockey and making a fool of myself she'd like me," John said, although he meant it as a joke.

Renee just shook her head, letting out a deep sigh.

"I didn't need this."

"Neither did I."

"You're shaking."

"Am I?" John asked honestly, glancing down at his hands. True enough, his fists were trembling. At that moment he realized how _angry _he was. His adrenaline was pumping through his veins at full force, "Oh."

Renee looked up at him, raising her head fully, brushing away her hair that had fallen in her face. She forced a smile onto her weary face, and gestured to her own chin, quickly changing the subject to a lighter one, "I like... what you're doing. The goatee, I mean."

"Oh," John raised his hand to his own chin, feeling the bristles. He hadn't bothered shaving for a few days, and he had a natural growth of facial hair. For some reason or another, it didn't form a full beard, but a moustache and some on his chin and halfway along his jaw line, "That's what you call it, huh?" He forced himself to smirk.

"I like it," Renee repeated, "It looks good on you."

"Thanks. I was thinking it might be too close to how I appear in that goddamn video," John frowned.

"No," she shook her head, "Not at all."

"It wouldn't give me away probably anyhow," John muttered, "It'd just be my face itself. I'm weird looking." He made a face.

"You're not weird looking," Renee snapped, "You have unique bone structure in your face, it's not weird. It's handsome."

John scoffed, shaking his head.

"You could pick me right out of a crowd," he pointed in a random direction, "Oh look, it's Master Chief, the freaky looking tall guy." The voice he put on was sickeningly enthusiastic.

"Stop it," Renee scolded him, "No one has picked you out of any crowd yet."

"I just need to come across some asshole with a photographic memory," John muttered, smirking.

"Did you take your pill today?" Renee asked him.

"Yes. You don't need to be asking me that all the time." John sounded annoyed, "Count 'em if you want to. I don't want any damn hallucinations."

"You're irritable." She declared.

"No wonder." He sighed, "I thought all my enemies were dead – turns out its not so."

"My mom's not your enemy, John," Renee told him, "She's just being ridiculous. She'll get over it and love you like a son in good time."

"I doubt it," John scoffed with a sarcastic grin, "I'm not Troy Fisher."

"No, you're not. You're John-117," Renee got up off the couch, crossing over to him and wrapping her arms around his waist, hugging him, "You're you." A moment passed where they didn't say anything, then Renee continued again, "Please don't worry about my Mom, John."

"I'm not," he replied softly, "I told her, if she wants to hate me, I don't care."

Renee was going to object again, and say she didn't hate him, but decided to keep quiet. Exhaling a breath, she pulled back from the hug she was giving him and looked up into his eyes – which were still black with anger. John's eyes were always dark, but when he was mad, they would turn an almost inhuman black. It was, at times, something that made chills run down her spine.

"Kiss me?" she asked him, not looking away from his eyes – no matter how evil they appeared to look.

He smirked slightly, his expression softening. Leaning down, he kissed her quickly on the lips. He turned away from her, walking into the kitchen.

"I need to go for a walk," He declared matter-of-factly.

Renee followed him, eager that he brought up the subject of going somewhere.

"Where to?" she questioned, "A walk in the city?"

"No," John shook his head, "A walk where there _won't _be any people."

"There are hiking trails in the hills," Renee informed him, "There usually are people, but they're hiking, biking, running, walking their dogs. They all have something in common with you, they're there to walk. None of them will be on the look-out with a pair of binoculars for potential celebrities or Master Chief." She gave him a smirk, "Not to mention, it's a nice place. Lots of shade, pretty views. It's kind of hard to believe something tranquil like that can exist right beside a booming city like Los Angeles." She paused, waiting for a response from John. He stood there for a while, leaned back against the counter – rubbing his face thoughtfully.

"It's like it was on Reach," John looked at her abruptly, "Our place beside the military base."

Renee smiled.

"Of course I remember."

"I went back there once," he confessed, "A couple of years after you left. We were on Reach – my Spartans and I. It was at night. I couldn't sleep, so I left our barracks and just ran to our clearing. It was still there, still the same, although it looked different in the moonlight." He chuckled slightly, but shook his head, "After that, though, it was like my way of letting go. I forced myself to almost... forget... It was the last time I truly allowed myself to devote all my thoughts to you. Until now."

"Did you tell anyone about it?" Renee asked.

"Not anyone." John shook his head, "They wouldn't understand."

"Not even Dr. Halsey?"

"Not even her," He replied, "It was our place, our memory."

Renee nodded, heaving a big sigh. Out of all the memories with John, it was the one that stuck out the most in her mind. After all, it was the moment in time that had truly brought them together. Where their realization of how deep their love ran for one another.

"So," she asked softly, "Want to go for that walk?"

"Yes," John nodded.

--

When they arrived at the trail and parked their car, it was midday. The sun was directly above their heads, beating down heavily upon them, persistently even through the leaves on the trees. John, who had become accustomed to sunscreen, hadn't forgotten to put it on before he left the house. Now as he and Renee stepped out of the car into the full fledged force of the Californian sun, he was thankful for it.

John shielded his eyes from the sun – glancing down to Renee, who smiled at him and held out the sunglasses.

"You forgot these," she said softly.

"Thanks," he muttered as he slipped them on. He surveyed the scene. There were a couple of other cars parked in the dirt parking lot. Everything, even with the glasses, seemed to have a golden hue.

Renee reached over and took his hand, the gesture making him feel relaxed. He gave her hand a little squeeze,

and they headed off into the trail. It was better on the eyes almost instantly. The trail had been worn down, into a fine, almost sandy brown dirt. It wound ahead of them, spotted with rays of sunlight that managed to fight their ways through the trees overhead. It was like walking into another world – the quiet was rather unbelievable. No roaring of passing cars, no buzz of hundreds of conversations. The twittering of birds and rustle of the trees were instead the melody.

John and Renee walked slowly, in no hurry – although John's long strides did take Renee a faster pace than what would be considered her normal. Their hands were glued. Renee found herself walking closer to John – their arms brushing as they walked. If she leaned her head just slightly to the side, she could rest it against his bicep.

"What do you think?" she asked him quietly, as if not wanting to break the spell.

"I didn't imagine it to be like this," John replied, glancing down at her, "It's better than I expected..."

"I used to come here a lot when I was younger," Renee answered, "Whether it be with Troy or Amy or just by myself. It's a good place to just walk and think. I think this trail goes on for five miles – I've never walked to the end of it, although they do say there's a brilliant view of the LA skyline when you reach the end."

"Then, I'd say that's motive to try and make it," John grinned down at her, "If you get tired, I can carry you the rest of the way."

Renee laughed lightly.

"I bet if I hadn't fallen into my coma, I could make it – run all the way," Renee said, "I'm not near as fit as I was when I was in the UNSC. I lost almost all my muscles in those eighteen years of just lying there. I was able to get some of them back through therapy, but I was so _ripped _in 2535!" She and John laughed, "Or at least I was for a girl. You should've seen me when I first woke up from that damn coma, I was a stick." Renee looked at him, and decided to poke him in the arm, "You, you, you," she accompanied these accusations with pokes, "You haven't changed since 2535. Well, no, you've gotten stronger."

"I'm a Spartan," John raised an eyebrow at her, "I haven't got much of a choice."

"So, theoretically speaking," Renee had a playful look come across her face, "If I were a Spartan such as you, even if I had fallen into a coma..."

"Spartan's don't fall into comas," John interrupted.

"Let me finish!" she laughed, slapping his arm, "If I was a Spartan and even after all this, would I still be a tank?"

"You sound like Amy," John chuckled, shaking his head, "But yes, you would. But you probably wouldn't have fallen into a coma," he informed her, "Try even knocking me out. Hit me with a frying pan or something."

"Why would I do that!?" Renee shrieked but it was accompanied with laughter, "Hey, you blacked out at Amy's..."

"That was a different predicament," John answered, "It was where I hit my head, too. It all depends where you take the blow. The temples are your weak spots. And the back of your head, right at the nape of your neck – where the neural interface is. That's an actually dangerous spot to be hit – because at the right angle, they'd be hitting your neck – if something happens to your spinal cord at that level," he made a cracking noise, "You're done. Or paralyzed from the neck down for the rest of your life."

Renee shivered uncontrollably, shaking her head.

"I'm sorry," John let go of her hand to put his arm around her shoulders.

"No, that's okay," Renee gave him a quick hug, "Don't worry about it."

"That's the stuff I wouldn't mind forgetting," John announced, "Like what I just did – I spieled off one of the ways to kill someone, didn't even think twice really. I know every single possible way to disarm, disable, or kill someone. In many ways, the same tactics go for the Covenant. But not always – then there's whole other ways to physically harm them – most of them I discovered or created myself."

"It's what you know," Renee shrugged, "You've done it so much it's hard to forget. Like me, I can't forget how to drive a car or cook dinner."

"Entirely different intensities, though," John added, "Killing is not the same as cooking a meal." He made a grunting noise; "Yeah, here I go again," he bent down so that his face was level with hers, "Shut me up. Got any tape?"

"Stop it," she laughed, kissing him quickly while she could, "I love to hear you talk, whatever it is you're saying."

John rose to full height again, shaking his head, a little smirk on his face.

"I find that hard to believe," he muttered.

"It's true," Renee playfully punched him in the stomach – but her fist hit his rock hard abs.

"That wasn't smart," John remarked as he watched her shake her hand, grimacing.

"Don't remind me," she sighed.

Ahead of them, a man on a hover bike came around the bend. It looked like a typical bike, except with a more comfortable seat. The man's pedaling powered the vehicle, the bluish purple rays that kept it hovering a foot or so above the ground. He whizzed past them, quickly giving them a friendly wave. John was able to return it before he had passed, with his reflexes.

"Does he know us?" John asked lowly.

"No, he was just being polite," Renee said, "Calm down, John."

"That vehicle looked to be inspired by the Covenant Ghosts," John remarked.

"I wouldn't be surprised," Renee shrugged, "It wasn't out eighteen years ago. We humans have borrowed and used different elements of Covenant technology over the years."

"And even then, to them we're primitive," John replied with a chuckle.

"Yet we won, with the help of the Elites," Rene shook her head, "You can't get much more ironic than that."

"Amy and I got into a discussion about that once. It didn't go over well. She still hates the Elites despite the fact they're on our side."

"Well, we can't exactly love them," Renee answered bitterly.

"I worked with the Arbiter in the last few months of the war," John explained, "When I first saw him, I had jammed a pistol down his throat. But he ended up being a huge help to us, along with the other Elites."

"Hmm."

"It's a touchy subject, I know. I'm sorry," he said after a moment. John looked around at this particular part of the trail. Long grass accompanied with tall, whispy purple flowers lined either side of it, giving the area a jungle-like appearance. The foliage was a dark, luscious green – shining in the sunlight. The trail was starting to head uphill, a rather steep climb.

"This part is difficult," Renee said as if she had read his mind, "It goes up like this for a good fifty feet or so. Just keep on walking, though, it's not that bad."

"I've seen steeper," John remarked, "You're the one that was complaining about not being in shape, not me."

"Hey," she grinned at him.

"You want me to carry you, miss?" John winked at her.

"No, I can do it myself," she replied, determined now to prove the point to John. Slipping out from his arm, she walked a few feet ahead of him, at a quicker pace. As she looked at her feet as she climbed – a blur whizzed past out of the corner of her eye. Her head shot up, and she saw John was at the top of the hill, smiling down at her.

"Show off," she laughed, "If I hadn't seen you, I wouldn't have known you went past! You are so quiet!"

"30 years of being stealthy tends to make you that way," John said, folding his arms on his chest as he waited for her to arrive, "And I offered to carry you."

Renee grinned, shaking her head. She forced herself to run the last bit, reaching the top of the hill and running into John's arms. She knocked him off balance a little – he stumbled backwards a foot but grabbed her in a bear hug.

"Whoa there," he said, "What are you trying to prove, huh?"

She just laughed, relishing the hug.

"It's even nicer up here," John remarked. Upon reaching the top of the hill, there was a temporary break in the dense foliage. A couple of palm trees stretched up over the trail. On one side, there was a steep hill rising up several feet, covered in low lying plants. On the other side, it sloped down into a jungle-like forest. Straight ahead, there were green rolling hills, dotted with houses – another suburban area. To the west, through the trees, was the city of Los Angeles, spanning miles and miles. The high rise buildings, even from this distance, towered above the horizon, windows glinting as they reflected the afternoon sun.

After sharing a kiss, Renee and John continued on along the trail. It made a rather large turn, until they reached an area that was relatively flat, filled with trees, trees and more trees. The lower foliage was pretty high as well. Despite the dense foliage, there was a gap over the trail – allowing the sun to beat down onto the trail. The dirt here was hard and almost on the verge of cracking.

Their conversation was light and happy. John allowed Renee to do most of the talking, she chattered away almost like Amy would, swinging her hand holding his. All of a sudden, John stopped walking. Renee at first didn't realize he had, but when she was jerked back, she turned to look at him.

All happiness had drained from his expression. He was alert, eyes wide, mouth hanging open ever so slightly, looking up towards the sky. It was like someone had put him in cryo freeze. He didn't move, he didn't even breathe.

"What?" Renee demanded, a thousand thoughts running through her mind. Had he lied to her and not taken his pill for today? Was he suffering from a flashback? Hallucination? Should she run towards him and make sure he didn't faint again?

John's eyes locked with hers, and he let go of her hand, raising his hand to his mouth, putting one finger in front of it. The old military hand-signal to be quiet. Renee felt a chill run down her spine. She stared at him, wanting his face to portray something to her, to give an answer to the question that was wracking her mind. What was going on? Did he hear something? See something? Or was he just imagining things?

He looked back up towards the blue sky above him, towards the fluffy white clouds.

"John?" she whispered.

John still didn't move, but she watched as his expression suddenly came to life. His eyes dilated, eyebrows raised, mouth fell open. She jerked her head up towards the sky – and saw something far off, coming closer. Coming down, from the outer atmosphere. What was it? A plane? A ship? There _was _a UNSC base in Los Angeles, although ships commonly docked in Florida.

As it grew closer, Renee began to see why John was so bewildered. She felt a chill run down her spine and spread out to her whole body. She recognized it, she saw them before, on many planets. It was a CCS Battle cruiser. It seemed to swoop down towards Los Angeles, getting closer and closer.

Her first thought was the Elites. Weren't they allies? Were they coming to pay a visit?

John watched this with utter bewilderment. This wasn't right. The Elites would contact them first before coming. As the cruiser came closer – he saw it wasn't right at all. It was damaged. It was smoking – leaving a trail of black smoke and flames as it descended, its path not steady, not certain.

John and Renee's hearts leapt into their throats when they saw the cruiser begin to charge up its plasma beam – the same weapon used to _glass _planets. It took Renee a moment to realize – it was coming straight towards them – with hostile intentions.

John grabbed her hand, and she was jerked off her feet as he broke into a run before he even gave her the orders.

"Move!" it was a shout.

Behind them, there was an eruption of heat – the blast nipping at their feet as they ran. John dragged Renee with him, his adrenaline pumping through his veins double time. He heard the roaring, groaning engines of the ship. The searing heat was already causing them to sweat. The air was thick with heat, making it difficult to breathe. There was a smell of burning foliage and ground. Smoke.

"What's happening?" Renee screamed, choking on a cough.

"I don't know!" John screamed back, "Just don't stop!"

A glance behind him proved the worst, the whole trail was ablaze, and everything was a bright whitish-yellow. The temperature had sky-rocketed, to dangerous temperatures. John's shirt was beginning to soak through, sweat was streaming down his face in big drops.

The sunlight suddenly disappeared. Renee, still trying to keep up with John, looked over her shoulder and saw the battle cruiser, a hundred feet above them, nose first – it approached them in slow motion. It was going to crash.

John looked over his shoulder to see the same thing. He panicked, reaching around and grabbing Renee and hauling her into his arms.

"HANG ON!" he shouted – crouching and trying to protect her with his body.

Behind them, there was a huge, earth rocking crash. The ground shook violently as the ship ploughed into the earth. John was knocked clean off his feet, he heard Renee scream as she clung onto him, he could feel her nails digging into his skin.

Then there was a blinding flash – John felt the air around him sizzle and pop – then they were struck with the wave. A giant shock wave picked them right off the ground – and sent them soaring through the air. John fought to keep his eyes open – he heard the twisting and screeching of the ship as it was torn apart in an explosion, and Renee screaming hysterically. All around him it was a bright, blinding blue-white. He saw pieces of metal go whizzing past him, he felt some of them slice his bare arms and tear through his clothing. He was still in the air – flying in this vacuum at an unbelievable speed. John forced himself to hug Renee closer to him, but she still screamed.

Was this it? John waited for his vision to go, to fade to black and for everything to end.

Renee's screaming was the only thing that reminded him he was still alive.

Suddenly, he crashed into ground. He landed on his back, every bone in his body jarring. John threw his head back and couldn't hold back a scream of pain that came deep within him. His body was on fire, he could taste blood in his mouth. A rather large piece of the ship came to crash beside him in the dirt.

Renee wasn't screaming now.

The blue-white flash dissipated. The sun came back, but John couldn't move. He could smell fire, that strange indescribable smell of a Covenant machine – the same smell when a Banshee or Ghost exploded. He stared into the sky, he could see the clouds, drifting on by as if nothing at happened.

That's when he remembered to breathe. He took in a lungful of air, gasping. His throat burned, his chest burned. He rolled over to one side and saw Renee lying beside him on her stomach, her face covered by her hair – that seemed to be everywhere. Her arms were littered with scratches and blood.

John knew, without looking, he would be the same.

He panicked, flipping her over to her back.

"Renee!" he cried.

She opened her eyes, taking a deep shaky breath. Somehow, her lip had been split open. Her face was covered in dirt and was shining with sweat.

"John!" she seemed bewildered, confused, "John?"

She raised her hand up to touch his face, upon doing this was relieved.

"Are you okay?" he demanded. She nodded, unable to control trembling. She sat up, wiping the blood from her mouth – and she and John both took in the scene that had abruptly changed.

All around them, the trees were flattened and snapped off. Pieces of the ship, still smoking, lay everywhere. At the center of it all, in a large crater, about half of the ship lay smoking in the scorching mess it had created moments before it had crashed. Trees were on fire, flames were licking at the edges of the ship – and it was blackened and discoloured from the explosion. The dirt all around it was glowing like white embers.

Renee was speechless, and so was John. He wiped unconsciously at his mouth too, at a drop of blood that had trickled down his chin. His body was aching, but he automatically forced himself to forget about it. He turned to Renee,

"Are you sure you're okay?" he demanded, breathing heavily – the air was still thick with smoke. His eyes were watering.

"Yes," she answered, her voice wavering, "I think so..." she stretched her arms out in front of her, "I'm bleeding. So are you. My body is aching, but, I think I'm okay." She had to bite her lip to hold back her tears, "Is this a nightmare?"

John shook his head. He could tell just by looking at Renee that she was scared, hurt, confused. He wished he could comfort her and tell her everything was going to be okay, but he didn't know if that was true. He looked up towards the sky. Were there going to be more suicidal crashes?

"What the hell is going on?" Renee demanded, shaking uncontrollably.

"I don't know," John replied.

That's when he remembered.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out the data pad – and luckily, it wasn't broken. He initiated an audio call to Lord Hood. He paused to cough – deep wracking coughs.

"John?" Lord Hood had answered almost immediately.

"Lord Hood, sir!" John almost shouted into it, coughing again, "There's been an emergency! A CCS battle cruiser has crashed to Earth, almost on top of us. It exploded..." he coughed again, holding the data pad away from him for a moment.

"What?" Lord Hood demanded.

"You'll probably hear about it soon," John said, swallowing and trying to clear this throat, "Just... we need you here... and all military personnel you can find. This is an immediate emergency!"

"Are you alright?"

"I'm alive, sir," John replied, "There's... a lot of smoke," he had to cough again, "But... we're okay... just... get here as soon as you can! I don't know if there are any alive on the ship... it partially exploded. It had tried to glass the planet at first, and then crashed. I... don't think it was Elites, sir. But the war... it's over, I don't know what is going on."

"Stay calm, John," Lord Hood demanded, "You know what to do. I will be there as soon as I can, I will contact the UNSC base there in LA, if they haven't already been alerted. There'll be help there soon."

---

John and Renee didn't have to wait long for help – just like Lord Hood had promised. They never felt so relieved in their life to see marines sporting the UNSC insignia come running towards them. They'd taken a couple of warthogs and several dozen men on foot – all of them armed and dressed in full battle uniforms. Lord Hood hadn't left out any details, for the troops began to close off the area – making sure no curious civilians came to see what had happened.

One marine came rushing up to meet John and Renee. He helped them up off the ground, addressing John first.

"John-117," he shook his hand, "Honor to see you in person. Gunnery Sergeant Edward Buck." He had dark brown hair, and like John, serious eyes. He was about six feet tall.

John nodded numbly. He'd heard of this Buck figure before. He had to wrack his brain for a moment before remembering. Right. He was an ODST – and was then surprised by Buck's kindness. There had always been a rivalry between the Spartans and the ODSTs right from the get-go.

"She doesn't look too good," Buck gestured towards Renee. John turned to her and saw she was standing wearily beside him, and appeared to have difficulty keeping her eyes open, "We should get her treatment." Buck looked over to a couple of marines, whistling at them, "Come take a look at her, please!" he looked to Renee, "You're name?"

"Renee Kilburn," she muttered softly.

"Yes," Buck nodded, and he gently guided her towards the two marines he'd been talking to, "Go with them, Miss Kilburn, they'll help you."

John watched wordlessly as Renee went almost robotically with the two marines. They asked her questions, but she hardly had energy to answer. He looked back to Buck, with almost a suspicious look.

"You don't look too good either," Buck declared, "But, if I'm right, you're built to handle it."

"I'm fine," John answered.

"Lord Hood is getting her as fast as he can," Buck looked around the scene, then back to John, "What the hell happened here? It was the last thing I was expecting to get called out, being told there was a Covenant ship that had crashed."

"There was something wrong with the ship," John told him, "I think it's crash was inevitable. It was like as soon as those aboard saw where they were – they tried to destroy it before they crashed. They attempted to glass – but only succeeded in doing a small area. Then it crashed, exploded – I don't know if anyone aboard survived."

"Elites?" Buck raised a brow.

"I don't think so," John shook his head, "They're on our side."

"Then... the Brutes?" he made a weird face, "How is that possible? Truth's fleet was destroyed."

"I don't know."

"Do you think this is some type of a sign? Or a message?" Buck asked him, "Don't say you don't know, you've been through more than I have – and I've seen a lot."

"I _don't _know," John repeated, "Look, if I knew, I'd tell you."

Buck sighed irritably, jiggling his assault rifle in his hands – turning to look at the remains of the ship as several marines cautiously examined the scene. Suddenly, there was a yell.

"Survivors! Sergeant! There's survivors!"

**A/N: **Hurrah for the first real exciting episode! I don't really want to take everyone's focus away by drabbling on. There'll be a blog post for that. Next chapter will be up ASAP. Enjoy. –AB


	8. Crash Aftermath

**Chapter 8: Crash Aftermath**

** August 18****th****, 2553 **

John felt his heart jump into his throat as soon as he heard the words run through his head. What _kind _of survivors? Other people who had been unfortunate enough to be walking on the trail at the same time as he and Renee? Or were they alien survivors? If so, were they hostile?

He glanced down at Buck, who seemed to need a moment to process the words the marines had yelled at him. Then he snapped to, rushing towards the marines – careful not to trip on the uneven, scorched ground. John for a moment looked after him – then followed.

Quickly catching up and falling into step beside Buck, John looked ahead to the marines who'd been calling them. About two hundred feet away, he could make out a couple of them, beside the remains of the cruiser, which towered over them all. What was left of the cruiser was sparking and thick black smoke billowed up into the sky. All across the area, what was left of trees and plants were still on fire in little patches, flickering harmlessly.

"You don't have the proper equipment to assess this situation," Buck said without looking at John, as he hurried a few paces ahead of him, "No armor, no weapon. Stay back."

John ignored Buck's words. The typical ODST attitude was beginning to show, the attitude John had come across too frequently. He wasn't about to listen to him.

"You're not listening to me, Spartan. Don't forget you haven't a rank anymore."

"I don't need a rank," John answered.

Buck stopped dead in his tracks, and turned around to give John a piercing glare. After a moment, though, he reached to his hip to his pistol holster, and jerked out the weapon, tossing it to him. John snatched it out of mid air. With still a bitter look on his face, Buck turned around and kept on walking – picking up the pace.

"I want that back."

"Yes, sir," John replied lowly, glancing down to the M6D in his hands. It felt foreign, but at the same time, it was impossible for it to feel anything but right. He jerked the magazine from the pistol; to check it was fully loaded, then slapped it back in – following after the hot-headed ODST.

When they arrived at the scene, not just John, but Buck, immediately whipped up their weapons. The marines even looked cautious – barely looking away from their sights to address Buck. John felt his adrenaline fly as he saw the survivors. A Brute, two Grunts – had somehow found their way out of the wreckage. They looked pretty beaten up – yet ready for battle, but they had no weapons.

The Brute let out a low, warning growl as the Grunts stood behind it.

"You're looking at the survivors, sir," one marine managed to choke out. Everyone there had one thing in common; they'd seen enough Covenant to last a life time. Now, the war was over and they had crashed onto their planet – it wasn't hard to tell that the weary marines were aggravated.

"You speak English, you goddamned monkey?" Buck spat at the Brute.

"Human scum," was the Brute's way of replying.

Buck wasn't at all intimidated by the Brute, or the Grunts – striding right up to them. John's trigger finger was twitchy – he had aimed right at the Brute's head, directly in-between its little red eyes. The ODSTs were usually too cocky for their own good. Everyone knew that even a Brute without a weapon could be a big problem if one didn't know how to properly handle the situation. John had had more Brutes go berserk on him than he could count.

And this one didn't look very happy.

"Listen here, you big ape," Buck looked up at the Brute, "You have some explaining to do. Why are you here? Why did you crash? Why the hell did you try and glass us? Trying to start up the whole goddamned war again, are you? Because I'm pretty sure it's just you and those two fucking cowards hugging your knees," he glanced down at the Grunts.

The Brute glowered down at him, not saying anything for a moment.

Buck nodded, "Okay, that's the way you want to be?" He blindly aimed his assault rifle down at one of the Grunts, and with a quick burst of the assault rifle – had shot the Grunt dead. The other Grunt, let out a shriek that dwindled into a mournful wail. John watched as it fell to its knees, almost looking as if it was bowing to Buck.

"Stop, we no hurt you, no hurt you!" the Grunt pleaded in its high pitched broken English. John felt a pang in his chest, at first he wasn't sure what it was – but soon realized, with a recoiling horror, that it was _pity_. The Grunts didn't deserve his pity, did they? Who knew how many humans had died because of them alone. John watched as Buck stepped backwards from the snivelling Grunt, and looked up at the Brute – who had barely moved since the murder of the first Grunt.

"Start talkin'," Buck told him.

John saw it probably before Buck – the instantaneous transformation of the Brute's face. It crumpled into an expression of fury, its mouth opening to bare its sharp teeth. With a roar, it lunged towards Buck – bringing its clenched fist back behind its head. While its fist was still in the air, John made a split second decision, to shoot or not too shoot. John knew, even with the armor Buck was wearing, if he suffered a full-on blow from the Brute, he wouldn't walk away clean. It all depended where it decided to hit him too. If his head was a main target – broken neck, death. Too big of a risk to take.

Clenching his teeth, John realized in the same second as the Brute was making the swipe at Buck, that if he took the shot, he could shoot Buck. Okay.

John darted forward, crossing the space in a split second. Buck was just starting to back away, when John got in-between him and the Brute. With one hand, he shoved Buck out of the way, and with the other, met the Brute's fist with the palm of his hand. He was able to stop the punch, although the force jarred him. John suddenly yearned for his armor.

"Fool!" Buck bellowed at him, "Are you _crazy_?"

The marines seemed edgy, looking to him for an order. All of them had an aim on the Brute, but were in a similar situation. They couldn't fire without the risk of shooting John.

The Brute seemed surprised, for he drew back, but let out another roar and swiped again at John, this time lunging at him, bringing both fists down and slamming into the ground where John had been a fraction of a second before.

John's thoughts were whizzing. This Brute was obviously unaware of the war being over, or he was a rebel. Either way, it seemed awful keen on killing him. Did he want to kill this Brute? It could provide them with information. His memory flashed back to him one of the earliest things he was taught. If someone poses a threat, disable the threat. No questions asked.

"Stop!" John suddenly shouted at the Brute, as it charged at him again. He dodged, rolled as the Brute ignored his words and took another swipe at him. This thing was absolutely enraged. John whipped up the pistol, bellowing, "Stop or I'll shoot!"

The Brute let out another roar, and kept charging.

John pulled the trigger, once, twice. Two sharp cracks echoed through the air. A spray of dark red blood erupted from two holes in the Brute's head – almost directly between its eyes. It let out a groan, and fell to the ground at John's feet with a rather large thump. It was dead.

Lowering his pistol slowly, John looked up to Buck and the marines. Buck's expression was questionable, but he made no comment against his decision.

The sound of running footsteps and then a shrill yell caused everyone to look back towards the bow of the ship.

"John!"

John saw Renee coming towards him, with a blanket wrapped hastily around her shoulders. The same two marines who'd been assigned to look after her weren't far behind her. She was surprisingly fast. Her face was white, but she arrived at the scene – seeing John was okay – but saw his face and shirt was splattered with the fresh blood. She saw the dead Brute lying on the ground. The two marines caught up with her just as she saw the live Grunt cowering off back towards the wreckage– and panicked.

"What the hell is _that _doing here!?" she demanded, backing up.

"I told you two to take care of her!" Buck shouted at the two marines, "She's a civilian, dammit!"

"Ex-corporal, actually, sir," one of the marines replied, "She has a neural interface."

"Oh, great, and I have a cat named Whiskers," Buck snapped sarcastically, "This isn't an open viewing – ex-corporal or not. What we're dealing with here is UNSC-classified information."

"I'm not going to run off and tell the news," Renee told him, "I've been living with the Master Chief for the past four weeks, so I think you can trust me to keep my mouth shut."

"Living with him?" Buck made a face, gesturing back over his shoulder to John with his thumb.

Renee nodded.

"Wow," Buck raised his eyebrows in surprise, but his expression was all around sarcastic, "I bet that's... entertaining, living with the last Spartan." Buck looked over his shoulder at John, "You've found yourself a girl, congratulations."

John narrowed his eyes, seeing this as a form of mockery.

"No offense," Buck shrugged, turning back to face Renee, and changed the subject, "You know, your face is familiar. Your name is ringing a bell, too, for some reason. Are you sure I haven't seen you before?"

"I don't think so," Renee shook her head; "I'm no hero."

"Sir?" one of the marines asked him.

Buck whipped around.

"What?"

"What do you want us to do with the Grunt?"

"Oh," Buck glanced over at the frightened alien, "He's not going to go anywhere. Just make sure he can't get his hands on any grenades –it's in this state they're more likely to go kamikaze. We'll wait until Lord Hood arrives, we'll probably take him back to the base for questioning, then let the court martial decide his fate. Spartan!" he called to John, who instantly snapped his head up upon being called, "You watch that Grunt. Go over and sit by him if you want to. Make yourself useful – you're doing no good just standing there."

John didn't reply.

Buck turned back around to face Renee, looking thoughtful.

"When did you serve?" he questioned.

"2533 to 35," she replied quietly.

"Only two years? Discharged?"

"Medical reasons, head trauma."

"How did that happen?" Buck asked.

"I'm sorry, but why does it even matter?" Renee asked, "I don't know you, you must have me mistaken with somebody else. You want to know my personal information, go look it up. They probably still have my file somewhere in the database."

Buck was quiet for a moment, but he continued to look at her with a thoughtful expression.

"Corporal Renee Kilburn," he muttered.

She let out an irritated sigh, shaking her head ever so slightly.

"I know!" Buck declared suddenly, snapping his fingers, "Lieutenant Troy Fisher."

"You knew him?" Renee asked, surprised.

"Yeah," Buck replied, "We were in a couple of missions together. I remember him because he was giving the orders. He showed me your picture once. Though, you looked different, you were just a teenager."

"He had a picture of me?" Renee looked bewildered.

"Yeah, I remember what he said, too," Buck smiled, "I'd been talking to him about Veronica Dare, my girl," he shrugged slyly, "And then he whipped this picture out of you. He said, 'Isn't she cute?' And I nodded, 'Yeah, she's pretty cute'. Then he said, 'She probably hates my guts right now, but, I'd give anything to be with her at this moment.' And I was like, 'Do you love her?' and he was kind of thoughtful for a moment, and but he said, 'Yeah I do. Very much. She might not see it, but I do. But, the last thing she said to me, she called me the biggest asshole in existence.'"

Renee found herself smiling. She nodded.

"That's what I said," she grinned, "You know, I actually forgot about it until now."

"Aren't you nice," Buck folded his arms on his chest, "The guy honours you by flaunting a picture of you to all of his buddies and you were cursing him up the wall."

"That was a long time ago," Renee shook her head, "We... actually started to get along at the end of it, but, then he was killed."

"Yeah," Buck nodded solemnly, "I heard about that. I'm sorry."

"You never know what you've got till it's gone," Renee sighed, "But, it's over. I'm recovering."

She glanced past Buck to John, who was standing by the cowering Grunt. She was surprised to see that he was looking directly at her. That's when she realized he could hear everything that was being said. She had to look away.

Buck glanced over his shoulder at John, then back to her.

"Eavesdropping Spartan," he muttered.

"Bigmouth ODST," Renee replied.

"Hey," Buck frowned, "You're on his side?"

"No, I'm just living with him for no reason at all," Renee sighed sarcastically.

"I'm not going to try and understand your logic," Buck furrowed his brows.

"I didn't ask you to." Renee walked past Buck, "Nor is it something I expect." She headed carefully across the uneven ground, approaching John. He watched her walking towards him, but didn't say anything at first. She didn't look well. Her face was pale, expression rather blank. The cut on her lip had caused it to swell. Her hair for some reason looked dead, hanging stick straight and lightly tousled by the light breeze that was blowing. She had had her hair tied up in a knot before the incident, John remembered.

"Are you alright?" he asked her softly, remembering to speak.

"Yes," Renee nodded, glancing down at the Grunt, "He almost looks pitiful."

John glanced over his shoulder at the alien, which hadn't moved from its place since it had gone there upon the murder of the Brute. It was trying not to look scared, but it couldn't stop itself from trembling ever so slightly. It avoided looking at either of them, staring at the ground with its beady red eyes.

"That's what I thought," John answered, glancing down into the pistol he still had in his hands. When he looked up at Renee, he saw she was staring at the weapon.

"You got your wish," she said in a near whisper, "You got to shoot a gun again."

"What made you think..." John began.

"I've seen your anxious trigger finger," she explained quickly, "Mostly when you're sleeping. It twitches."

"I didn't want to kill," he stated, looking at the dead Brute, who had a pool of dark red blood coming from the holes in its head, "But, it was going to kill me first."

"I heard the shots and the roaring and got scared," Renee shrugged, "It's been a while since I heard those sounds... I never fought a Brute, but, the gun shots..."

"I know," John nodded, "But you should've trusted me to be okay."

"I had to be sure," she smiled slightly up at him.

The corners of John's mouth curled up into a little smile. He then looked over to Buck.

"Sergeant!" he called.

Buck turned around, raising a brow. John tossed the pistol to him, it arced directly into Buck's hands. Buck didn't say thanks, but he just gave John a nod, putting the pistol back into the holster on his hip.

"You were talking rather openly with him," John muttered, looking back to Renee.

"No I wasn't," she shook her head, "Believe me; I was far from being open. I don't really like him."

"Why?" John questioned.

"You don't," Renee answered truthfully, "He seems to think he's better than everyone else, anyhow."

"You don't have to hate him because I do," John folded his arms on his chest, "The Spartans and the ODSTs have their quarrels." He changed the subject, "He knew Troy, huh."

"Yeah," she nodded, "Then again, not many people didn't. His jump through ranks was practically unheard of. It took me just as much time to move up one rank as it took him to move up the entire rank listing." She sighed, "But it's the past. However, I can't help but feel that it's been thrust back into our lives again," she gestured up towards the Covenant ship.

"This was just a onetime thing, don't worry," John answered, "Once Lord Hood gets here, I need to talk to him, give my statement, perhaps you may too, then we can be done with this. Just because we were coincidentally in the path of a crashing Covenant ship doesn't automatically tie us back with the UNSC."

"I want to know for sure," Renee told him, narrowing her eyes and glancing up towards the sky, "That no more of these things will happen."

"No one knows exactly where the ship came from and why it was damaged," John replied, "But they'll find out, either from the Grunt or they'll find evidence in the ship itself."

"What's your theory?" Renee asked.

"I'm not sure I have one yet," John furrowed his brow, "But, wherever the ship came from, they were totally oblivious to the war being over. The Brute tried to kill me, after all."

"I still think those things would harbour hatred towards none the less," Renee remarked, "From what I've heard, they're not nearly as honorable as the Elites – although I wouldn't befriend an Elite, I think I would trust one before I'd trust a Brute." She paused, "Did it know who you are?"

"How could it?" John questioned, "I'm missing my main component," he gestured down at himself, "It doesn't matter now anyway. It's dead."

"The Brute may not know who you are, but if you're not careful, the world could easily find out," Renee answered, "No doubt the media will be circling, trying to get pictures of this. Los Angeles is probably well aware of it by now."

"I still have these," John remarked, reaching into his pocket and pulling out the sunglasses.

"They didn't get broken?" Renee seemed amazed.

"Nope," John smiled a smile of satisfaction as he slipped the glasses on, "They're like me. Lucky."

---

Within a short time, John received a message on his data pad. It was from Lord Hood, informing him that he had just arrived in LA and would be there at the site as soon as he could. He lived up to his word, for not fifteen minutes since John had initially received the message, Lord Hood arrived.

Seated in the passenger's seat of a standard troop transport, wearing his familiar white dress uniform which proudly showed off all of his medals, Lord Hood spotted John out of the crowd of waiting marines and gave him a wave. The marine driving had barely cut the engine when Lord Hood jumped out of the vehicle, making his way carefully up the remains of the trail. Buck of course, made sure he was the first to greet him with a proper salute, stepping out from everyone else to do so.

Lord Hood gave him a nod.

"Sergeant," he glanced along the other faces until he spotted the familiar one – at least a head taller than all the rest. A smile came onto his face, "John."

"Lord Hood, sir," John stepped forward, raising his arm to salute, but Lord Hood simply shook his head and held out his hand for him to shake. John stiffened at this unfamiliar gesture, but reached out and shook his hand none the less.

"You look battered up," Lord Hood remarked, "But, I like the glasses."

"Thank you, sir."

Lord Hood looked past him to the scene. For a moment, he didn't say anything, but finally let out a low whistle. His brow was heavily furrowed, making the wrinkles that were already in it worse.

"You survived this," he remarked in a low voice, "You _are _lucky."

"The area is secured, sir," Buck stepped in, "I've got my men all around, making sure no civilians can get in. There were survivors – one Brute and two Grunts. The Brute and one of the Grunts are dead. We had no choice but to kill them – the Brute especially, sir. It tried to pummel us. The one Grunt remaining, however, is alive – scared, but we do think he can be a valuable source of information if we can get him to talk. Perhaps it could help us understand what exactly happened. Why their ship crashed, and more importantly, why they were even here."

"Hmm," Lord Hood nodded, not taking his eyes off the remains of the ship, "I don't think you will be able to get that Grunt to talk, Sergeant. The little guys are cowards. They usually aren't let in on any information except for the orders shoot anything that moves. I want a specialist crew brought up here to inspect the ship and see if they can find any evidence that could tell us why the ship crashed. I mean I want them inside the ship – if the bridge is still accessible, start there. That's where you could find the most information. If all else fails, use an AI into infiltrate the ship's systems."

"Yes, sir," Buck turned and hurried off.

Lord Hood looked at John, and then to Renee standing solemnly by his side.

"You must be Ms. Kilburn," he said.

"Yes," Renee managed a little smile, "Nice to meet you in person, sir."

"Are you sure you're alright?" Lord Hood questioned.

"I look worse than I feel, but thank you," Renee answered.

"You're certain?" John asked her quietly. She met his eyes and nodded. John looked to Lord Hood, giving him an uncertain shrug.

"How about you?" Lord Hood asked, "That's not your blood on your shirt, is it?"

"No, sir," John shook his head, "I was the one who killed the Brute."

"You obviously had a reason," he answered, "It attacked you?"

John nodded and forced himself to put a spiteful smirk on his face.

"Well, it was going to kill Buck, so I jumped in between the two," he shrugged.

"Let's go back to the UNSC base," Lord Hood gestured, "Leave the marines to work. We can discuss it better there, unless, of course, you want to stay."

"No, sir, I'll come," John answered, and for a moment, he wasn't sure what to say. He looked down at Renee then back up to Lord Hood, "Can she..." he began.

"Of course," Lord Hood interrupted, knowing what John was going to say. They headed back towards the troop transport. John took one last glance at the scene, not sure if he would see it again. It had been like a nightmare at the time, even now it didn't seem real when he looked at it. Somehow, fate had found some way to re-tie him back in with the UNSC.

"We've got the car, so we'll meet you there in ten." John told Lord Hood as he got into the passenger's seat of the troop transport. He glanced to Renee, "I trust you know the way?"

She nodded.

"Okay," Lord Hood replied, "See you then."

---

When Renee and John made it down the trail, they were surprised to see the end of the trail was guarded by two marines with assault rifles. When they saw them coming, the two marines looked weary. One of the marines, a Private, addressed them first.

"Lord Hood informed me who you are," he said, looking at both John and Renee, "You're leaving without a vehicle?"

Beyond the marines, John could hear a sort of roar. It momentarily distracted him, but he focused his attention to the marine.

"No, our car is out in the lot," John answered, "Why, is that a problem?"

"You might want for us to escort you," the marine replied, his expression apologetic, "Especially you sir. Judging by how much you've been on the news, I'd advise you to keep your sunglasses on and your head down. It's swarming out there. I think they have a representative and a camera for news channel across America out there wanting to get information. They've already taken pictures of us standing guard. They're anxious and uninformed."

"Great," John muttered, pushing his sunglasses up on his nose. He grabbed Renee's hand, "Yes, your escort would be greatly appreciated."

"What car is yours?" The second marine asked grimly.

"Black one," Renee replied.

"Okay, it will be like out in battle," the second marine gave both of them a grin, "Countdown from three. Go as fast as you can, keep your head down and don't answer _any _questions. We already had a hell of a time getting Lord Hood in and out of here."

"Let's go," the first marine said.

John, Renee and the two marines walked out into the sunlight. Although Renee and John kept their eyes down, they could judge by the noise how many news reporters there were. There were flashes upon flashes of photo cameras, and the shouts soon started.

"What happened?"

"Tell us; is this the beginning of another war?"

"Was the ship even Covenant?"

"Was anyone killed?"

"How about injuries?"

John made the mistake of glancing up just for a moment – he had to see the news reporters just once. There looked to be a whole ocean of them, with cameras galore. Some of them had their back to the scene and were talking away. He looked back down, but then he heard what he'd been dreading.

"Master Chief!"

This was echoed several times. They started throwing questions at him. He heard the marine next to him yell for them to get back. John had been staring at the asphalt and his rushing feet, then he saw the car. The marine jerked open the door and John ducked into the car. Renee got in on the other side. The marines slammed the car doors.

"Can you drive?" Renee asked. John realized they'd assumed that he was the one who would drive.

"Yeah," John nodded, "Manual, no automatic." He tapped the holographic panel on the dashboard, and the car started up. He glanced in the rearview mirror and saw the marines were having a bit of a time trying to get the crowd out of the way. He slammed his foot down on the gas and backed up, burning rubber. He jerked the car back into forward and pulled a u-turn. Revving the engine, he slammed his foot back down on the gas, and the car tore forward, right towards the crowd of reporters that were blocking the road.

They scattered, some of them barely missing being hit.

"John!" Renee screamed.

John glanced down at the speedometer.

"Got them to move, didn't it?" he said in a bitter voice through clenched teeth, "Can I switch to automatic?"

"While driving?" she questioned, "Yes, but slow down!"

"Set the destination to the UNSC base," John told her, and she did in a few taps on the holographic panel. With a sigh, John let go of the steering wheel and let his foot off the gas pedal as the car took over. He threw his head back, burning a hole with his eyes into the roof of the car.

"Fuck." He growled through gritted teeth.

"You're not Amy," Renee said softly, sensing his anger. She was trying to remain calm, "Stop and just calm down, John." She reached over to take his hand, but he clenched it into a fist and wouldn't allow her to.

"It's out," John said in a deadly tone, covering his face with one hand, "It's out, Renee. I knew it couldn't last for long. Two weeks, hasn't it been? They know I'm here now, they took our picture. We'll be on the front cover of everything, I'm sure."

Renee didn't know what to say to that. She just bit her lip and looked out the window.

--

The entrance to the UNSC base was a long, paved road with barbed wire fencing on either side. Beyond the fencing the land was flat, barren and dry. There was a large wall which encircled the actual base, with watch towers and big search lights. Renee could make out buildings beyond the wall. John, although he was still in a bitter mood, explained to her that the empty land up to the wall was called "No man's land". If you managed to make it over the fence and barbed wire, the men on the watch tower would shoot you without warning.

"In fact, they've probably got their sights on us right as we speak," John told her.

"What?" Renee demanded.

"Its standard protocol," John replied, "If we were to stop the car, get out and head towards the fences, they'd probably shoot us. It's not like guys would walk out and ask us who we were, tell us to stop, anything. This is the same for every base," John answered, "They take no chances."

When they arrived at the UNSC base, Lord Hood was waiting for them at the gate so that they could be allowed past security. A burly man in charge of the outer security booth walked up to their car, and gestured for John to roll down the window. John did. He was still in a bitter mood – and could see it reflected on the man's face as he looked intimidated when he took in his expression.

"You'll have to leave your car outside the premises," the man told him, "Civilian vehicles aren't allowed beyond this point."

John nodded, and he and Renee got out.

"You're ex-personnel?" the man questioned.

"Yes," John answered.

"Open the gate," the man said into his headset. There was a buzz, and the gate swung open.

"Just walk through," he directed them; "Our scanners will detect your neural interfaces and access your information."

John and Renee did. Lord Hood was waiting on the other side. From there, they went into the main building. The interior was much like the one had been on Reach, Renee recognized. It had basically the same layout - with a main desk, a sitting area off to the right with plants and expensive furniture, several flags hanging from the ceiling, four elevators to the left and hallways branching off to adjacent buildings and areas. Signs hung everywhere, some in as many as four languages.

Once they were inside one of the elevators headed to the third floor, Lord Hood started the conversation, directed at John.

"I don't believe I have ever seen you look so upset," he declared.

"My apologies, sir," John replied almost robotically, "It's just..."

"I should've warned you about the hordes of reporters and cameras," Lord Hood clued right in, "Your anonymity has been compromised."

"Yes," John answered in a low voice.

"Not good," he nodded, "I have succeeded in cooling down the media about the release of the video tapes," the doors of the elevator opened and they walked out, "but I'm afraid there isn't much I can do about whatever they managed to get of you both while getting to your car. The previous video tapes were stolen and classified property. What they took today isn't."

"I understand, sir," John replied.

Lord Hood led them down the hallway to one of the rooms; he had to punch in a code to get in. The room was dark, lit only by the large holographic screens and control panels of a militarized computer, which caused the room to be cast in a bluish hue. Off to the center of the room was a glass table with the same expensively upholstered chairs that had been in the lobby.

"I requested this room, it's much like the one back in Miami," Lord Hood replied, "They will be able to sync with us back at the crash site and give us any information to be recorded and classified properly. As well, I can tap into the news to see how much they're airing you."

"Good," John nodded subtly.

"Amy will freak," Renee said lowly to John.

"Most likely," he replied, although she could tell by the tone of his voice that Amy's reaction wouldn't mean much to him at this point. His brow was furrowed, mouth pressed into a thin line as he watched the screens, which were currently just displaying the UNSC insignia.

Lord Hood removed his hat and sat it on the table, and folded his arms behind his back, exhaling a deep breath.

"So, tell me more about this incident," he looked to both Renee and John.

When John didn't respond immediately, Renee decided to talk first.

"John and I both decided it would be a good idea if we went for a walk, sir," she explained, "Being a native to LA, I knew of the hiking trail. It was all normal at first, then John stopped – and at first he wouldn't say anything. Then I realized that..."

"I heard the ship," John continued, leaning on the control panel and staring down at nothing, "At first I thought I was hearing things, but then I saw it. As it drew nearer I realized there was something wrong with it, there was smoke trailing along behind it. Then, it began to charge up its excavation beam. I grabbed Renee and ran, sir. They succeeded in glassing only the small area you saw, before it crashed. Upon impact, it exploded. We both were thrown through the air by the blast. Luckily, we received nothing but scratches and bruises."

"It had to happen to you," Lord Hood shook his head.

"Sometimes my luck proves to be ironic," John mused.

"Do you have any theories?"

"I do believe, wherever this ship came from, those aboard had been uninformed that the war had ended. How that is possible, though I'm not sure. Truth's fleet was destroyed, so maybe this ship was a straggler... one that managed to escape?" John was thinking aloud and informing Lord Hood at the same time. He looked thoughtful, rubbing his chin, "Or maybe the Covenant had assigned some other mission – but no, that's too ridiculous. It was the Great Journey... Truth wouldn't have left anyone out of that."

"So they had to have been part of the fleet that attacked Earth," Lord Hood nodded, "An act of cowardice perhaps? When they saw the Ship master's assault carrier destroying the others, they could've taken a random Slipspace jump and fled."

"I contemplated that," John replied, "But even the Brutes aren't known for cowardice. If the ship was captained by Grunts – it would be a good possibility, but as we know that isn't done..." He snapped his fingers, "The ship had to have been damaged by the _Shadow of Intent_. Maybe to a point where something went wrong – perhaps a freak miscalculation opened an unintentional Slipspace gap and they wound up in the middle of nowhere. That would explain their inability to communicate and their lack of knowledge as to the war's end."

He glanced up to Renee and Lord Hood – and was rather surprised to see Lord Hood with a kind smile on his face. John raised an eyebrow.

"Sir?"

"My apologies, it's just I've never heard you _talk _so much."

"I'm saying instead of thinking, sir," John remarked with a small smile, "But your opinion, sir?"

"Your theory makes sense," Lord Hood replied, "But the question is, is it what really happened..." he narrowed his eyes.

"It certainly is believable," Renee said, "I know that our ships in the past, if damaged, have been more likely to make significant errors in Slipspace calculations," she paused to look at Lord Hood and John, and let out a nervous little laugh, "I haven't really talked about this kind of thing in a long time... but, it makes sense. There are some differences between our ships and that of the Covenant obviously, but for instance, if that particular ship wanted to make a quick jump to the surface of Earth, away from the Elite's carrier, it could've easily miscalculated and taken the ship hundreds of light years away."

"Exactly," John replied.

Lord Hood nodded thoughtfully.

"You were discharged in '35 you say?" he asked Renee.

"Yes," she replied.

"You have a good memory," he seemed surprised, "You could always work in the ONI."

At that moment, the screen in the center blinked on, and a static image of Buck showed up.

"Lord Hood, sir, can you read me?" he asked.

"All clear," Lord Hood answered, "What do you have?"

"Just reporting that we've utilized an AI to get us any accessible information from the ship," Buck replied, "According to the information, the ship had originally intended to make a Slipspace jump from Earth's orbit into Earth's atmosphere, but there was a miscalculation due to damage received from plasma torpedoes, most likely from the _Shadow of Intent_."

"You've just proven our theory, Sergeant," Lord Hood nodded, "Good work."

"Thank you, sir," Buck replied, "I have some news, however. The Grunt – committed suicide, sir. Removed its methane tank, and was asphyxiated before any of my men could figure out how to get the tank back on him. I'd say it was a desperate measure."

"Well, we've gained the necessary information anyhow," Lord Hood replied coolly, "Now that we know this was a freak accident, you can get someone to tell those hungry reporters that there is no possibility of another war. We don't want to start a panic. People are just starting to get back to their normal lives."

"Yes, sir," Buck nodded and gave him a salute, "Over and out, sir."

The screen went black and then flashed back to the screen of the UNSC insignia.

"The world doesn't need to panic," Lord Hood sighed.

"They can celebrate," John muttered, in a monotone voice, "Master Chief is in Los Angeles! Let's ruin his life, find out where he lives and ask him questions until he ends up killing somebody and going to jail."

"You are being overly cynical, John," Lord Hood said calmly, "It's not you."

"Once again it's the case of me saying what I'd normally be thinking, sir," he sighed.

"Do you think it will be much different from how it was before?" Renee asked either of them, "They know John is in LA. But this is a big city. They won't necessarily find us. They don't know he lives here for certain. They could assume that he had been called here because of the crash."

"I could try my best to speak to the media again," Lord Hood answered, "Repeat what I had said a while ago, when John's armor had been found aboard the ship."

"Do you suppose they have a place for me and Renee here at the base?" John asked sarcastically. He chuckled, "At least we'd be well protected. I can't help but feel that all my hopes for a life of normality are slowly dying." His last sentence was a whisper.

Suddenly, there was a knock on the door.

"Come in," Lord Hood called.

The door opened and a middle-aged woman with blonde hair poked her head in.

"Captain Dare," Lord Hood addressed her warmly. Renee recognized the name. Dare, could this be Veronica Dare, the woman Buck had mentioned?

"Lord Hood sir," Dare said, "Nathan Bayle, the man who stole the security tapes from the ship in the Kennedy Space Center – he's been found. They're bringing him here as we speak. I suspect you wanted to be the one to question him?"

"Yes," Lord Hood answered, after a moment's pause, "Thank you, Captain."

She nodded and whisked out of the room.

John held his breath. He looked over his shoulder, back to Renee, and then to Lord Hood. He could feel his adrenaline begin to rise – his heartbeat was beginning to echo in his head. The man who was to blame for all of this had been finally found – and what luck, John would be here to confront him face to face.

John felt a surge of satisfaction for what was to come – but in the same way, felt frightened. Not for himself, but for the unfortunate Nathan Bayle who would be on the receiving end on the rage that was slowly bubbling up inside of him.

--

**A/N: **This chapter is a couple of days late, I'm sorry. I know I said on my blog I'd have it up on Tuesday or Wednesday. School's to blame again. My apologies. I guess you could say I'm giving you another type of cliffy, don't hate me too much. Extended author's babble is on my blog. Enjoy - AB


	9. Justice, Delivered

**Chapter 9: Justice, Delivered**

**August 18****th****, 2553 – UNSC Base – Los Angeles**

John stood there for a long time, and neither Lord Hood nor Renee so much as moved. He knew that they, like him, were deeply embedded in their own thoughts of the forthcoming situation. Was it awkwardness that suddenly filled the room intensely, to a point where it could be cut with a knife? Or was it similar feelings of dreading what was to come? Surely it was one of the two, or maybe a mix of both. Either way, John knew that out of the three people, he was the one who was mostly affected by the news.

Nathan was his first name, Nathan Bayle, the man from whom John had borrowed the surname, removed the y. The man who had helped John initially, by giving him clothes, food, water – only to later turn around and backstab him by somehow managing to steal the security data chip and reveal John's face to the world – an action that he was probably irritatingly indifferent about. He probably didn't know, nor want to know that now much of John's plans for life were ruined, flushed down the toilet – all because of this man's desire to satisfy his life by ruining someone else's. Was it fame he had wanted initially? Or money? Money, yes, money was something that seemed to rule the world, as Renee had once told him. People, she had explained, did crazy things just for money. Now he could believe it. How much exactly had Mr. Nathan Bayle been paid? The jittery, stuttering man must've bargained a quite deal to get a wad of bills to fill his probably close-to-empty wallet. He probably had thought nothing of John, maybe he might've even laughed at the thought of handing over the little data chip that had captured Master Chief on tape.

Even the thought of it was enough to make John's blood boil. As he stood there in the dimly lit room with Renee and Lord Hood, he could feel his anger rising higher and higher. Unconsciously his square jaw was set; teeth clenched together, hands tightly balled into fists. He wanted to put his shaking fists through something, Nathan's skull perhaps. The thought of what would happen to a human head when he decided to punch it with all the force he could muster was momentarily satisfying. Quickly, though, John was also revolted by his wandering thoughts. Wandering _violent _thoughts – if Renee could read his mind, she surely would've been speechless.

At the thought of her, John turned around to face her and Lord Hood. They both looked at him; Lord Hood's expression was calmer than Renee's. She looked uncertain, perhaps a little intimidated.

"Would you like to be present during his questioning, John?" Lord Hood asked lowly.

"I'm not sure if it would be a good idea, sir," John replied in a deadly tone, "If I decided to do something, no one could hold me back."

"Only you," Lord Hood answered, "And I know you have the power of self-control, probably the most excellent self-control I've ever seen in a soldier. You master your emotions like a puppeteer. I understand you might want to wring this man's neck, but this is where you have to prove to yourself that you can control yourself. You want satisfaction, I know that. But, you can get satisfaction by seeing him receiving punishment by the law, not by you killing him."

John furrowed his brow so heavily it made him look like a brooding man of sixty, not forty-one. Exhaling a deep breath, he said nothing but made a nearly indistinguishable nod.

"I will place my trust in you," Lord Hood declared, and he glanced down to Renee, "We will place our trust in you. Face your last demon, John."

"He's hardly my last demon," John shook his head.

"John," Renee spoke up – the first time in a while, "You don't even have to go through with this if you don't want to. We can go home."

Lord Hood nodded in agreement.

"I want to see him," John snapped.

"You won't do anything out of line," Lord Hood ordered.

"No, sir. You have my word."

---

John stared through the window into the questioning room at Nathan Bayle as he sat rigidly in one of the chairs in front of a simple table. It was a typical questioning room, similar to those seen on television shows: one door, one overhead light, plain white walls, tiled flooring, and a mirrored window, where people could stand, unseen on the other side and watch and listen to the interrogation.

Nathan looked relatively the same since John had last seen him. He still looked nervous, but at the moment was able to control his jittering. Big, wide eyes, small mouth, a crooked nose, mess of wavy dirt-brown hair. He was wearing a simple t-shirt and a pair of shorts. A rather expensive watch was on his wrist. He was looking around the empty room, waiting for someone to come in.

Renee and Lord Hood stood beside John, as well as Captain Dare, and Buck, who had returned from the crash site. Renee stole a couple of glances to Dare and Buck, and could sense that there was indeed a connection between the two of them. They were standing fairly close together, and when they exchanged glances some underlying tenderness could be read on their faces. She suddenly didn't feel alone – she wasn't the only one who had fallen in love during the war. Looking up to John, she could tell that he was tense, angry.

"Are you ready?" Lord Hood asked him, breaking the silence in the room.

John responded with a simple nod. Saying no more, he and Lord Hood walked out of the room. Renee, Dare and Buck watched as the door to the interrogation room opened, and only John walked through. The emotion in the room stirred.

"Is he crazy?" Buck snapped, watching as Lord Hood shut the door. A second later he appeared back into the viewing room. Buck questioned him immediately, "Sir..."

"Let it be," Lord Hood said softly, "I trust him. Turn on the speakers. Make sure the cameras are recording this."

Nathan did a double take when he saw John walk through the door. John saw his face blanch white, and felt satisfied by this alone. Slowly, John walked over to the table, and leaned on it, making piercing eye contact with Nathan, who was too petrified to look away.

"Remember me?" John asked in a low gravelly voice.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa..." Nathan pushed his chair back, standing up, "No." He looked at the mirrored window, and shouted, "I know you guys are watchin'! Let me out of here! He, he will kill me!"

"Sit down," John snarled.

Nathan let out a little whimper and dropped into the chair, staring at John with a pleading expression.

"Don't hurt me," he whispered.

John smirked.

"Give me one reason why I shouldn't."

"Be-because, I, I, remember you, Mr. John Bale," the stuttering started, "You st-stole my last name, I remember, Bale without the y! I, I, never did anything to harm you..."

"Bull shit! You exactly what you did."

Nathan smiled nervously, emitting a pathetic little cackle, rocking in his chair, kneading his hands together on his lap.

"I sold the data chip," he confessed as if John didn't already know, "I sold the data chip... I was hard up for money... I... I... knew the media... would want to know... when I heard... the Spartan armor had been, had been found on the, the ship, I knew, I knew it had been you. So, I... used the ex-excuse to be on cleaning duty, of the, the ship. I, I went ... took the chip for the camera l-linked to the s-storage r-r-room. So, so, so what? Don't, don't you want, want the fame?"

"No!" John roared, and he reached across the table, grabbed him by the front of the shirt and yanked him from the chair, right across the table so his face was inches from his, "I wanted a normal life, I wanted to live like a normal human being. Do you know, I've found someone that I want to spend the rest of my life with?"

Nathan shook his head, looking absolutely petrified.

"I ... I.. didn't know..." he whimpered.

John clenched his teeth, and shoved Nathan backwards. He rolled across the table, and crashed onto the floor, knocking the chair over in the process.

On the other side of the glass, Buck was panicking.

"Jesus, he's going to kill him. Get him out of there," he cried, looking from the unfolding scene and to Lord Hood, who didn't say anything. Renee was just standing there, frozen. John wouldn't hurt him, would he?

John crossed over to Nathan in a split second, and hauled him up off the floor as easily as he would pick up a cat. Nathan let out a scream as John slammed him down onto his back on the table, holding him down by his neck.

"That data chip was property of the UNSC," John snarled, "You stole it for your own selfish gain, and succeeded in ruining my chances at a normal life. Do you think I want people asking me questions? Do you think I want them taking my picture? Knowing where I live? Harassing my friends?"

"No, I, never thought..." Nathan sounded like he was going to cry, "I... I... will never do it again..."

"You're right," John nodded, "I know you won't. Because you won't walk away from this. You're going to be court martialled, Nathan. They will nail you to the wall with the hefty punishment you deserve." He let go of Nathan's neck, and he gasped theatrically. John paused for a moment; he looked up to the mirrored glass, then down to Nathan.

"So you won't steal anything again," he said simply.

In a split second, John grabbed Nathan's hand and twisted it. There were a series of sharp cracks as the bones snapped, and Nathan let out a shrill scream of pain. Behind the mirror, Dare and Lord Hood grimaced. Renee had to turn away. "Get him o..." Buck began, but John whisked from the room and the door slammed, leaving Nathan writhing on the table, holding his now terribly mangled hand in front of him, staring at it in horror. Pieces of jagged bone could be seen protruding from the skin, dark red blood running down his arm. It hardly looked like a human hand anymore.

"Dare, take him out of there," Lord Hood said quietly, "And get the cleaning crew in there."

"Yes, sir," she said, ducking out of the room.

"The Spartan is a full blown _psycho_!" Buck shook his head in disbelief, "I understand what he did just there, but... that was ..." he was lost for words. He gave up under Lord Hood's gaze. "And you're _dating_ that nut," he muttered in disbelief to Renee.

"He's got his revenge," Lord Hood said quietly.

"Where is he?" Buck asked, "Make sure he doesn't go off and k..."

At that exact moment, the door opened and John walked in – and Buck quickly shut up. John's expression was calm now, almost unrealistically. He looked better than he had before, but Renee knew how well he could control his face. The expression of calm could be a mask; he could be raging inside and holding back the wanting to put his fist through a wall.

"Is it done?" he asked in a low voice, watching out of the corner of his eye as Veronica dragged Nathan out of the room as he groaned and moaned, his hand rendered clearly useless.

"Yes," Lord Hood replied.

John looked to Renee, who was staring at him with wide, almost frightened eyes.

"I'm sorry you had to see that," John said in an almost whisper, fixing his eyes on Renee for a moment, but he looked to Buck and Lord Hood too, "But it's over with now."

"You've got balls, I'll give you that, Spartan," Buck declared, folding his arms on his chest, "I'd hate to be him." By him he meant Nathan.

John didn't say anything to that. He heaved a big sigh,

"What now?" he asked Lord Hood, as he stared at his right hand, which had a smear of Nathan's blood on it.

"Clean yourself up, go home," Lord Hood answered, "That's it for today. If I need you for anything else, you'll hear from me."

"Yes, sir," John nodded, "Thank you."

He turned and left the room, without waiting for Renee. She was embarrassed by this, and was quick to hurry after him after receiving an incredulous look from Buck. She went out into the hallway, looked both ways and saw that John was nowhere in sight. Feeling bewildered, she suddenly jumped when she felt a hand on her shoulder. Whipping around, she saw it was Buck.

"What do you want?" she asked, jerking her shoulder out of his grip, "To warn me not to go home with him because he might do the same to me?"

"Well, now that you've mentioned it, it's not a bad idea," Buck sighed, frowning, "No, listen. I don't want to know anything about your personal life with him, to be honest I don't care. But just make sure he doesn't hurt anybody else. He might be able to get away with breaking the hand of the man who ruined his life, but outside of this base he so much as touches someone, they can have him up for assault. I heard about his little trick, almost running the reporters over with the car."

"John will be fine," Renee snapped, "He knows what he can and cannot do. Your concern is unnecessary."

"Where'd he go, then?" Buck questioned, "Spartan up and ditched you. Do you know the way out?"

"He probably went to wash his hands," she told him, narrowing his eyes, "I know him better than you do. You think he's a killer."

"Well, wouldn't that be an obvious assumption after what I've seen today?" Buck smirked, "Shot a Brute in the head, mangled a guy's hand... how can you say he's not a killer, he was the one who practically won the war."

"He was a soldier, not a _killer_," Renee snapped, "You've killed, does that make you something to fear? I've killed Covenant too, don't forget that."

"Aren't you just a little bit intimidated of him?" Buck raised an eyebrow, "If you haven't seen what he's capable of before you certainly witnessed it in there. We're talkin' about a guy that can lift _tanks_. I'm sure he didn't even use half of his strength when it came to snapping that guy's bones. I'd hate to see what he could do if he _really _wanted to hurt him. And look at you, you're tiny." This comment got him a glare from Renee, "Sorry - I've heard the saying that opposites attract but, if he wanted to, Spartan could squash you with one finger!"

"You sound like my mother," Renee frowned, shaking her head, "Why the hell do you even care?"

"Like me, your mother has a brain!" Buck snapped his fingers, "She's thinking."

"John would never hurt me."

"So you're telling me he's _never _hurt you. Not a bruise, scratch, nothing? Accidental or not?"

Renee stared at Buck for a long time.

"It's none of your business."

"He hurt you."

"For fuck's sake, you barely know me!" Renee exclaimed, "John has PTSD, but he's recovering. He's taking pills... if I wanted this, I'd call my mother."

Buck opened his mouth to reply, but Renee watched his expression change completely and he forgot about what he was going to say. Renee knew exactly why, for she could feel John standing behind her. John had that canny ability to not be there one second and then there next. She looked over her shoulder and sure enough, there he was. His face was rather composed, although she could pick out a hint of irritation. She could smell the scent of cleaning alcohol off his hands.

"Are you ready to go home?" she asked him softly.

"Yes," John answered in a stony voice, his black, cold eyes on Buck.

"I don't deserve that look you're giving me, Spartan." Buck declared

"You ask one more question about business that's not yours, and see what happens," John narrowed his eyes, his voice low and deadly. With one arm, he gently pushed Renee back behind him, "I'm _not _in the mood for your attitude. Either you shut up or I'll shut you up."

Buck whistled lowly, raising his hands in surrender, his face mocking.

"Sorry," he replied, sincerity absent from his voice as he backed a couple of steps up.

"You want to know I did to the last guy like you?" it was almost a growl.

"Do tell," Buck grinned, adding in a low whisper, "Tough guy."

Renee darted in between the two men, placing her hands on their chests, as if she could keep them apart if they decided to go for each other.

\ "Stop it!" she ordered, giving each one of them a glare of equal intensity, "Do you realize how _stupid _this is?" she looked to Buck, "FYI, the last guy who had an attitude similar to yours was Troy, and John broke his jaw. So, I'd suggest: back off."

Buck didn't say anything, unconsciously raising his hand to his jaw, looking from her to John. He nodded thoughtfully, almost looking pained at the thought of a broken jaw. He looked back to Renee, as he headed off down the hallway,

"Remember what I said."

She didn't say anything, and Buck turned his back completely to her and John and walked off down the hallway like nothing had happened. When he had rounded the corner and was gone from sight, Renee finally gathered up enough courage to look John directly in the eyes.

"Forget what he said," John said through clenched teeth.

"Let's go home, please," she sighed, reaching forward and taking his hand in hers. His fingers intertwined with hers loosely, almost carelessly. His palms were sweaty – she could tell he was still enraged and wasn't probably in the mood for holding her hand – but he did. She knew he could sense that she wanted his comfort.

They walked hand-in-hand in silence to the elevator. On the way to ground floor, Renee pulled him down a little, and stood on her tip toes to give him a gentle kiss on the cheek. The gesture made John feel a little bit better despite his mood. He gave her a small, tight lipped smile.

"Thank you."

---

When Renee and John pulled into their driveway, a small part of them had feared their house would be swarmed by reporters waiting for their return. Instead, there were no reporters, a woman with frizzy auburn hair seated on the doorstep. Upon seeing the car, she jumped to her feet, her expression worried yet deadly. She was striding towards the car before they'd even opened the doors to get out.

"A hike, a fucking hike alright!" Amy declared when they could hear her. She stared at the couple as they came around to the front of the car, her mouth hanging open a little, "You know, everything was going fine. Then I'm flipping through the TV channels and see some shaky video camera work of a Covenant ship crashing into the hills. I was like, what the fuck is this, is it a joke? Then I learn it was _here _in LA, in the exact trails you guys went hiking. I nearly had a cow, okay?" Amy was fuming, she looked to Renee, "You could've _answered _your phone. I was worried sick! Then I see this video of you two being escorted to your car by a couple of marines, with the title 'Master Chief spotted in LA near crash site'."

"I'm sorry Amy," Renee replied, "I... never thought..."

"You're okay?" Amy questioned, "You look like shit, both of you. Kinda looks like you got in a fight with a bunch of cats... all your scratches... But you're okay?"

"Yes," John answered, "We're fine."

"Okay," Amy nodded; trying to calm herself down, but it didn't work. She fought with her facial expressions, before she hurried forward and gave Renee a hug, then John, upon receiving John's hug she muttered, "Man, you've got a wicked grip." She stepped back, looking to Renee.

"Make me a cup of strong coffee and explain to me exactly the fuck is going on," She smiled serenely.

---

The three sat in Renee's kitchen, all with a cup of coffee. John's was black; Amy's was with cream and a little sugar, and Renee's loaded full to the point where you could almost smell how sweet it was. The whole room smelled like fresh brewed coffee, and it was awakening despite the tiredness of John and Renee.

They'd explained the general issue to Amy, who listened with eager interest. She couldn't hold back with comments, usually every few sentences into the story she'd interrupt to declare her opinion – whether it be a rather plain remark – "Holy shit" was a favorite – or even explaining what she would've done in the same situation. Renee did most of the talking, while John brooded with his bitter coffee. They made a good pair at that specific moment in time. John, although he would occasionally look back and forth between the two friends, mostly kept his eyes down – where he stared into his coffee, as if he was attempting to kill it with his expression. He sipped at it maybe twice, transfixed with tracing his finger around the rim, round and round again.

"Well," Amy said, after being explained close to the whole story. She leaned back in her chair and slapped her hand against the table, causing John's eyes to jerk up from his mug to her, "That's quite the... I don't even know what to call that. I officially believe that that was fate. I mean, it _had _to be you, John." She looked to him, "The Covenant ship had to practically land on you and Renee. Out of all the places and people in this frigging planet. Had to be you guys," she rolled her eyes, "I'm kind of glad I wasn't there. I probably would have died. I couldn't run fast eighteen years ago, I definitely would've failed in the whole run-from-the-ship-before-it-lands-on-you thing."

Renee laughed lightly, but glanced to stone-faced John and her smile faded. Amy quickly caught on, and leaned forward, looking intensely at John.

"What's got you down, sexy?" she asked in a flirtatious voice, giving a wink to Renee.

John didn't reply.

"Don't be like that!" Amy ordered, not giving up, "I'm here, you haven't seen me in a while. You've barely said a word since you got home. I can understand you're probably thinking about that whole bullshit incident, but it's over." Amy let out a sigh when John once more said nothing, and she turned to Renee, "I think you should get under the table and work your magic on him. I won't look!"

Renee fixed Amy with a glare.

"This is not the time," she said lowly.

"You're right," Amy made a face, "He might spill his coffee."

Renee sighed deeply, running her fingers through her hair and slouching on the table.

"Can your mind for once not run in the gutter?" John spoke up – both Renee and Amy looked at him in surprise. He had evidence of a developing smirk on his face.

"No," Amy answered with a grin, "I like the goatee you've got goin' on there, by the way."

"Thanks."

"So what's going on in that head of yours?" Amy questioned, looking at him with interest, "Whatcha thinkin' about? If you can tell anyone, you can tell Renee and I."

"Nothing important," John shrugged.

"It's got you frowning, it's important."

"I'm not frowning."

"You were."

"If I wanted to talk about it, I would," John answered simply, "I don't."

"Okay," Amy shrugged, sipping at her coffee, "Be that way. Antisocial."

"I'm not being antisocial," this hit a nerve, and Renee watched John's facial expression change dramatically. He almost looked infuriated. Renee felt the tension in the room go up, but it was something that Amy was, at the moment, oblivious to.

"Yes you are!" Amy almost laughed, "John, you're sitting here with your girlfriend and your best friend, not saying a word, with a stupid frown on your face as you stare into the depths of your coffee mug."

John shook his head. Angrily, he gulped down the last of his coffee – slamming the mug down onto the table. He shoved back his chair with a loud scraping sound and was gone from the room in less than a second. His angry footsteps could be heard as he thumped up the stairs. A couple of seconds later, a loud slam echoed throughout the house as he threw a door shut.

"PMSing Spartan?" Amy asked lightly, trying to hold back a grin.

"Funny," Renee snapped, glaring at her friend.

"What?" Amy demanded.

"Good job, you just made him more pissed off than he already was," irritation was thick in her voice, "You don't realize how hard it is for me to try and calm him down when he's angry. It's tough on both of us."

"What did I do? I just told him he was being antisocial. He _was_, Renee."

"Considering what we went through today, I think he has every right." Renee got up, taking John's coffee mug to the sink. She felt so frustrated with Amy, "I want you to be on our side!"

"I am!"

"Mom came over this morning, bitching about John, she practically hates him now, do you know that? Then I had to listen to Buck bitch to me about John. Now, it's you and the news."

"I didn't mean to insult him or you," Amy frowned, "You need to chill out. I'm one of the only friends you and John have. I was just stating a fact, Renee – but okay, I get it. He's had a hard day."

"Me too," she snapped, "Don't forget, I've been through this shit too, you know! It's been a pretty shitty day, if you ask me. You've just made it worse."

"Well, that's good to know," Amy nodded, her broad smile laced with deadly sarcasm, "You know what, I don't mean to sound rude, but John really needs to grow a pair. And you stop bitching at me right this second, or I will slap you upside the head like I did that time I found out you almost fucked Troy in the locker room after the semi-final hockey game." She stopped to laugh.

Renee didn't say a word, staring at Amy with disbelief. Out of all the things that had happened between her and Troy, that was one thing Amy and Renee had agreed about to never bring up. But she just had. Amy's words had unlocked an ancient part of her brain – and a rather vivid memory came back to her. Troy's mouth hot over hers in a deeply passionate kiss. The touch of his hands beneath her hockey jersey, cold against her skin from being out on the ice. The unfamiliar sensation of desire that had coursed through her body as they wormed themselves into a back corner of the locker room. The horror as they heard the coach come in, calling for Troy, and how they had quickly separated and hastily began packing their skates into their bags...

"Oh!" Amy exclaimed after a moment, "I completely forgot. Sorry!"

Renee just shook her head, unable to speak. She looked above Amy's head to the doorway, and saw John had come back downstairs and was standing silently there, leaning against the doorframe. His expression was dark. He must have heard them quarreling and had come down to moderate it. But, Renee felt absolutely dreadful. Had John heard what Amy had said?

Amy, seeing that Renee was looking past her, whipped her head around to see John.

"Oh, back so soon," She announced, "I wish I could calm down as quickly as you." She looked apologetic, "Sorry, you weren't being too antisocial, Johnny. I should've kept my mouth shut."

"It's fine," John replied in a soft voice.

"Naw, it's not!" Amy got up from her chair, scuttled over to him and gave him a hug, "Sorry, buddy."

Renee watched as John put on a smile that was, for the most part forced, and returned the hug to Amy gently. As he did this, he looked directly at _her_, making Renee realize then that he had heard what Amy had said. Heard very clearly.

Amy leaned back from the hug, and saw John was looking at Renee – and a glance over her shoulder confirmed that she was looking back at him. Letting out a low whistle, Amy looked apologetic.

"I think I picked the wrong time to remember that little incident," she said ever lowly, stepping back from John.

"What incident?" John questioned, looking completely innocent. Renee knew he was bluffing, he had heard what Amy had said, there was no way he couldn't have. When neither of them answered, he looked slightly amused. Letting out a snort, he nodded. His expression hardened in a split second, "So, are we done arguing with one another?"

"Yes," Amy and Renee said at the exact same time.

It was apparent that Amy could sense the tension that was slowly beginning to build between the couple, for her usually present smile faded.

"I just wanted to make sure you two were alright," she announced, "The boys will be wondering where I am, I've been here a while. Troy also mentioned to me something about wanting to go to a friend's house, so, it's my job to take him. Thanks for the coffee... I should probably be going."

"Call me later," Renee told her, and was surprised how frightened her voice sounded. She didn't really want Amy to leave. She found herself dreading John, what his true reaction would be when Amy walked out the door. She _knew _he heard. He was still angry, she knew – and probably now, angrier.

"Sure thing," Amy tried to give her an honest smile, but it didn't exactly work. It ended up looking kind of painful. She looked apologetic as she brushed a piece of hair from her eyes – looking from John back to Renee. Taking her hand for a moment and squeezing it, she muttered, "I'm sorry."

With saying a trying-to-sound-happy goodbye, Amy was quickly gone from the house.

Renee turned around fully, bravely making eye contact with John. They were silent for a moment, studying each other's features. Renee noticed John's eyes narrow ever so slightly, his mouth twitch. But other than that, he didn't move. She guessed he was waiting for her to speak first.

"You're mad at me, aren't you?" Renee finally broke the silence.

"No," John answered plainly.

"You look it." She bit her lip, "I knew you heard what Amy said."

"You are taking what your mother and Buck were saying to heed," John said lowly, "What are you waiting for, me to slap you or something?" He seemed irritated at even the thought of the possibility that she feared him, "Or shove you around? Perhaps stand here and yell in your face?" Besides his expression, his voice was unusually calm. He paused for a moment – and Renee made no move to respond. He took a deep breath, "Yes, I heard what Amy said. No, I'm not going to be a jealous psychotic and scream at you or call you a liar and accuse you of keeping things from me." He raised an eyebrow, "Obviously."

"You're not ..." Renee started, but he cut her off.

"I didn't even know you then," John explained, "What happened between you and Troy, it's your business."

"Amy, she was the only one who knew about it besides... us," Renee said in a quiet voice, feeling her cheeks turning red, "And I made her swear not to bring it up years ago, before we joined the UNSC even. But she just... forgot. To be honest, even I forgot. Well, not totally. But, you know what I mean. I never told you because..."

"It's none of my business," John repeated, picking up Amy's mug and carrying it over to the sink where he dumped the remnants of the coffee down the drain, "You don't have to explain yourself to me." He glanced back over his shoulder at her, flashing her a quick grin, "I'm not your drill sergeant."

Renee returned the smile to him, before walking up behind him and hugging him around the chest, laying her cheek against the strong muscle of his back. She let out a little sigh, feeling relieved. John responded by lowly chuckling.

"I still can't believe today actually happened," she told him as he turned around to face her.

"I know," he replied, a nostalgic expression coming onto his face, "Neither can I. It was certainly a trip to the past for a while..."

"Yeah," Renee nodded, "In a way it felt brand new, but a part of me was telling me, oh, it's just like old times. I'm glad it's over."

"Hm." John looked thoughtful, "I'm sorry about the whole scene... in the interrogation room. You, didn't need to see that."

Renee shivered, still able to hear the sharp cracking of Nathan's hand as John crushed it.

"Don't worry," she shook her head, "I've seen worse."

"In real life?" John muttered.

"No," she admitted, "Movies."

"Thought so. I'm sorry, Renee."

"Like I said, it's fine," she stood on her tiptoes and managed to kiss him on the chin, "I'll just kind of think twice when I go to hold your hand..." she meant it as a joke, but she saw concern cross John's face. Renee grabbed both of his hands in response, intertwining her fingers with his and giving his hands a little squeeze. The move now felt daring, like how one would feel if they leaned particularly far over the edge of a railing on the top of a skyscraper. With the same hands John ruined Nathan's. Now the same hands were so gentle.

John leaned down to her and they were able to share a passionate kiss, the first one in a while.

---

It was around midnight, and the house was dark and silent. John and Renee had gone to bed fairly early, the both of them exhausted, and had both fallen asleep almost immediately. John was lying on the side closest to the bedroom window, in a t-shirt and boxers, fast asleep. The window was open and a cool breeze was blowing in, fluttering the thin curtains. The stars were bright, so the night wasn't as black as it could've been.

Beside him, Renee was lying on her back, her eyelids fluttering every few seconds. She'd rolled so much that the blankets were half off her. Her forehead was beaded with sweat – her mouth was forming unspoken words. Turning her head to one side, still asleep, she buried her face into the pillow for a moment, and then unconsciously brought her hand up to the pillow, clawing at it. She let out a whimper – then was still.

Then she awoke abruptly – and let out piercing scream coming from the pit of her stomach. She shot up, still shrieking, and threw the pillow across the room in terror. John was awake on her first scream – his eyes quickly adjusted to the darkness and he reached across the bed to comfort Renee, who, still in a semi-conscious state had scrambled to the top of the bed. She was clutching her stomach, grabbing the fabric of her night gown as if she was trying to keep it from falling off.

"Renee!" He grabbed her by the shoulders – and in the dim light could see her face was already wet with tears. He was alarmed, this was the first time she'd ever woken him, let alone screaming, "It's okay!" he held her face up, brushing her hair from her eyes, which were wide and frightened. She was breathing frantically and trembling. He tried to make his voice sound as soothing as possible, "It's okay, you're okay..."

She let out a moan, burying her face into his chest, clinging to him for dear life.

"I had a nightmare," she managed to choke out as he rubbed her back, "I... haven't had one, since... a long time..."

"Shh," John whispered, "It was just a dream."

"It was real," she looked up at him, "It seemed real... it was so real..." she shook her head, "Hydra... it was Hydra all over again!" A tear slipped down her cheek, "It was like I could feel getting shot..." she was trying to control her breathing without much success. She looked down at her stomach, where beneath her night gown her skin was crisscrossed with scars. In her head, she could still hear the sound of the assault rifle, then recall how it felt. Like someone had punched her in the stomach in rapid inhuman succession, then the burning. Then she had gone numb...

John pulled her tighter against him, letting out a sigh. He knew exactly how it felt to have such vivid dreams – and felt angry that he couldn't protect her from them. She was upset, she was scared. He wished he could take it away from her, and allow himself to be the one to be scared, to be reliving the memory. Not her. She didn't need this.

"It's all over now," John said lowly, having to swallow a lump in his throat, "Just calm down, Renee. Deep breaths..."

He could feel her take in a deep shuddering breath as he instructed, and exhale. She still was slightly shaking. He scanned the place where her pillow was supposed to be, but quickly located it on the other side of the room by the closet. Giving her a kiss, he whispered he'd be right back, and then retrieved the pillow, putting it back in place and puffing it up for her.

"Let's lay down," John said. She was almost weak in his arms as the two of them lay back down in the center of the bed, holding each other close. With one arm, John pulled the lighter sheets up over them, pulling Renee close to him.

"I didn't mean to wake you..." she whispered, sniffing rather loudly. Now he could tell she was ashamed, embarrassed that she had awoken him, "Don't let me keep you up... I'll be fine."

"Shhh," John stroked her hair, "Just close your eyes."

She did, letting out a sigh. After a few moments, he could tell she had fallen back asleep. He looked down at her in his arms, and momentarily thanked fate for uniting the two of them. His mind wandered back to when he first had laid eyes on her. She'd been muddy, dishevelled and covered in Elite blood, stranded with Troy and Amy because he had flipped the warthog. John had done the favor of helping them out by putting the warthog upright again – and he'd remembered the awe on their faces when they saw who he was.

Then, he'd seen Renee again, aboard the _Hercules_. She'd been with Amy in the hallway, and he had to tell her excuse me twice to get past her. She'd been embarrassed, the first time he'd seen her flush red in the cheeks.

John had been so enveloped in his thoughts; it took him a moment to hear the faint beeping sound. A glance over his shoulder to the bedside table proved that it was his data pad. A new message was waiting. He raised an eyebrow. A message? At this time of night?

He rolled over as stealthily as he could as to not disturb Renee, and snatched the data pad off the table. Squinting at the bright screen, he saw the message was from Cortana. It was flagged as urgent.

This made him alert. He sat up, and opened the message. It immediately went to opening a sound clip. The screen said:

"RECEIVING SIGNAL...

SECTION 51902 ZETA DORADUS SYSTEM...

RECEIVING SIGNAL...

SIGNAL LOST...

RETRIEVING SIGNAL...

SIGNAL CONNECTED..."

Then the audio began to play. At first it was static – loud, crackling static – John recognized it to be radio static. Then, he heard a far off, echoing voice. He could barely make out the words.

"Can anyone read me?" There was an echo to the voice... a female voice, "This is..." static, "This is Spartan..." static... "087. Can anyone read me, over?" More static fuzz. Then the clip ending.

John froze, feeling his heart pound. Spartan 087.

Kelly.

She was alive.

He glanced down to the message received from Cortana. It was three words – powerful in their own right. He had to read them twice, three times. It said:

"_We need you back_."

--

**A/N: **Anyone who watched the trailer will recognize the last bit. This story's just getting started. -AB


	10. Fate's Pull

**Chapter 10: Fate's Pull**

**August 19****th****, 2553 – Los Angeles**

For the remainder of the night, John had found himself unable to sleep. He had lain beside Renee on his back, staring at the ceiling. In one hand he had held the data pad, in case he received another message. His thoughts had constantly been about the message – and the audio clip sent to him. For the first time in months, he'd heard Kelly's voice. She'd vanished shortly after Reach's glassing, along with Linda, Fred and the Doctor. John had eventually come to accept that they were dead. But Kelly was alive, and if she was, John estimated that there would be a good chance the others would be too. She was trying to make contact with someone – the message had been a desperate attempt, and somehow Cortana had picked it up.

All night, John had wracked his brain. Section 51902 Zeta Doradus System, where in the galaxy was that? It sounded somewhat familiar, but he couldn't quite put a finger on it. But that's where Kelly was, and perhaps the others. She needed help. He would go and help her, John swore by it, he knew the moment he'd seen Cortana's message "we need you back" that he would go and try to bring Kelly and whoever else was alive back.

It didn't occur to him instantly what that meant. It dawned on him sometime around three in the morning – that that meant rejoining the UNSC, once again donning his Mark VI MJOLNIR armor, once again going on a ship and venturing out into the far reaches of space, on a potentially dangerous mission.

It meant leaving Renee.

The sun eventually made its way above the horizon – John watching it rise from the kitchen window. He had left the bed around four o clock, taking the data pad with him, and sat at the kitchen table in just his boxers and light t-shirt. In a quick glance in the mirror as he had left the bedroom, he'd seen that most of his scratches from the crash were almost healed or fully healed. Most of them wouldn't leave any scars, and for that he was thankful. He didn't need any more.

The sunrise, he realized, was quite a beautiful thing. Never before had he really taken the time to watch it, for he'd been always fighting. The way it brightened up the sky to a bright, happy gold, and everything else, the buildings, trees were bathed in a dim morning light – there was a good fifteen minutes where everything had a dreamlike peaceful hue.

John felt a knot come in his stomach as he sat there. Not because he was hungry. He was pained, wondering how he could tell Renee. He couldn't just not go, he was a Spartan. The only one in Earth's command – and Kelly, was his Spartan. Under his command. It was _his _job to retrieve her and see to it that she made it back to Earth alive and well, and the others, if they weren't dead. But would Renee understand that? He knew that she wouldn't want him to leave her again, he knew that the moment he would say he was going back for Kelly there would be an instantaneous conflict between her and him. John hated conflicts, and he hated to break this news to Renee.

Of course, there was a part of him that didn't want to leave. There was a part of him that despised the idea of once again becoming Master Chief Petty Officer of the Navy and putting on the MJOLNIR armor, carrying an assault rifle, setting foot on a UNSC ship, going into space. This part of him wanted to stay here with Renee forever, not ever leave her.

And then there was this part of him that wouldn't accept any other option but to go.

Kelly needed him; the desperate radio attempt was one of distress. Where ever she was, she was stranded or lost. He was her commander, her leader. Up until now, he was the last Spartan. There was no one else better suited for the job. It couldn't be handed off to marines – there were so few, now, anyway. Most of them retired or just simply left once the war was over, and like John, returned to a peaceful, civilian life.

John heard footsteps behind him, without turning around he knew Renee was standing in the kitchen doorway. Gazing out the window at the rising sun, he heard her softly speak his name.

"John?"

"I need to talk to you." John whispered, turning around to make eye contact with her, "You won't like this."

Instantly, he saw concern take command over her features. She paled.

"What's wrong?" she demanded, leaning against the doorframe as if she was afraid she would fall.

"Come here," John gestured to the chair beside him. He watched her as she silently crossed the room and dropped into the said chair, making almost frightened eye contact with him. She swallowed a lump in her throat.

"What's wrong?" she repeated desperately.

John found himself, for a moment, unable to look her directly in the eye. He set his data pad on the table, touching the screen to replay the audio tape of Kelly's voice. He watched Renee's face as she listened, her expression blank. She went to shake her head, and probably declare "I don't understand." But he bet her to the punch.

"It's Kelly," John explained, keeping his voice low, "Cortana sent me the message."

"Where is she?" Renee asked.

"I don't know. You see, that's the problem..." John held up the data pad so that Renee could read the message that Cortana had sent him. Like he had done, he watched Renee's eyes scan the words once, twice. Finally, she seemed to process them, her mouth falling open. When she spoke, she startled John. It was near close to a shout.

"They want you back?" Renee had shoved back her chair and stood up, and she began to shake her head, "No. No, no, no, John. No!"

"Renee listen," John got up, reaching out towards her, but she backed up.

"No!" She shouted, "You are _not _going back! I won't let you! They want you back so you can go on a search for Kelly, well, no. There are other people who can do that! Not you!"

"You don't understand," John said, trying to remain calm, "I'm the only Spartan they've got, I'm the Master Chief, it's my job to find her and bring her back."

"You're not Master Chief!" Renee looked bewildered, shaking her head, "You left Master Chief behind at the UNSC base when you handed in your ranks. You're John. My John. You're not going to leave me again! You can't!"

"I won't leave you," John said, "I'll come back."

"No," Renee was trying to hold back tears, "Do you realize I spent five months of my life thinking you were dead? And eighteen years in a coma, oblivious to everything? I just got you back; I'm not going to let you leave me again."

"I have to go," he whispered.

"No you don't!" She shrieked, tears slipping down her cheeks, "You don't have to do anything they say. And you're not! I won't let you go on a wild goose chase somewhere off in the middle of nowhere for Kelly, John. With my luck, you'd probably die, get attacked by Insurrectionists or something – and then what would I do?"

"I have to go, Renee." John repeated, "I promise you, I will not die on you. You know when I make a promise I keep it."

"I'm coming with you," Renee snapped.

"No you're not," John snapped back, the idea of it horrifying him, "You are not coming with me."

"You'll have to kill me first," she said, her voice icy and authoritative, "Because if you are going to go, I will come with you. There is no way I'm leaving your side - and if that means rejoining the UNSC and going on this insane mission with you, so be it. I will not leave you, John. That's my promise to you."

---

John had non-verbally accepted Renee's decision, and they ate breakfast in silence, both of their minds preoccupied with thoughts of the forthcoming future. What exactly it was they were getting themselves into. Renee, at first was frightened when the words had come from her mouth that she would go with John. But there was no alternative; she wouldn't allow him to leave her again. She wouldn't be able to stand being without him, even if this was just a rescue mission. It slowly began to dawn on her what exactly she was getting herself into as she and John went about their usual morning rituals. They hadn't spoken since she had said she was coming with him. When she'd said those words, she had been expecting resistance, not for him to just accept what she had said without so much as a word.

She would have to most likely undergo training again – rebuild her muscles and physical endurance. Running a mile at six in the morning before breakfast in full battle dress, gun and knapsack. Being timed as she had to tear her way through the obstacle course, swinging and jumping over mud puddles, struggling through barbed wire, climbing and jumping ropes and ladders. Push-up practice until she was able to do a hundred with no stop, target practice until she could unload a full clip of any weapon into the bull's eye, weapon cleaning, and not to mention simulation situations, where she'd be under actual fire of stun bullets, stun grenades, and missile strikes.

Memories of boot were one thing she would never forget, and the thought of having to relive it all over again made her really question her actions. But she _had _to stay with John, no matter what.

Would they even let her back in the UNSC?

That was her main concern, that they'd take one look at her being discharged due to head trauma and not allow her to re-join. Then what would she do? Go back home without John?

Renee was standing, staring at her reflection in the full-length mirror in the bedroom, but not seeing herself. Her mind was almost blinding her eyes, as she allowed herself to take a trip down memory lane. She glanced away however, when she saw John come into the room from the bathroom – with a towel wrapped around his waist. He'd just had a shower. Water droplets dotted his back and arms, his hair looking black as it was slicked to his head. She noticed, his goatee was gone, his face clean shaven. He smelled a delicious mix of after-shave, cologne and that mango shampoo.

"John," she said, breaking the silence.

He looked to her.

"Yes?" he questioned, stopping on his way to the closet.

"You're not going to stop me? Coming with you, I mean?"

"I don't want you to go," John answered, "But I know you won't be persuaded otherwise."

"You're right," She gave him a little smile, "Don't be angry with me, please."

"I'm not," John replied softly.

"Do you think... they'll even let me rejoin?" She asked, "After what I've been through? They might think I'm mentally unstable."

"You can't be worse than me," he shrugged, "But they will give you a mental evaluation, and full training, no doubt. But condensed, of course. My guess is that they will put you through a series of situations to see if you are able to handle them."

"You mean, they'll try to make me have a mental breakdown?" Renee demanded.

"No," John shook his head, "They'll simply see if you can function in a high-stress, high-danger situation without having any mental setbacks..." He frowned, "See, that's why I don't want you to come with me. They'll put you through things that you don't need to experience. I don't want to see you put to your limit like that. If you pass the initial evaluation, they will have no sympathy for you. I know you're not capable of this."

"Don't discourage me! How do you know what I'm capable of?" She demanded, "I made it through boot once, I can do it again."

"I know you," John said softly, "Better than you think I do."

"Well, I can adapt," she declared stubbornly, "I won't be a damsel in distress."

John let out a sigh, walking up to her.

"Please," he said lowly, placing his hands on her shoulders, "I'm begging you, reconsider this."

"Reconsider your decision," She whispered.

"I can't," John shook his head.

"Well neither can I."

John heaved a big sigh, turning away and walking into the closet. She heard the rustling of clothes and the jingling of his belt as he got dressed, and he emerged a minute later with his towel draped over his shoulder, dressed in a simple pair of cargo pants and a muscle shirt. He made brief eye contact with her before going into the bathroom, the expression was almost sad. It made Renee momentarily feel a pang of guilt in her stomach, but she pushed it aside. She couldn't be without him; she wasn't going to stay home while he went off and put himself in harm's way, she would go with him.

"I have to go to see Amy," Renee spoke up, "To tell her about this."

"I have to see Lord Hood," John answered, coming out of the bathroom with his hair combed.

"You can have the car," she said, "I can walk to Amy's."

"Okay," John replied in the same curt voice, "I'm leaving now, I'll be back."

"Be careful," she whispered.

On his way past her, he kissed her tenderly on the cheek, and they momentarily shared a loving gaze. Then John was gone from the room. She heard him thump down the stairs, and a few seconds later, the front door shut. Renee let out a deep sigh.

Yes, indeed, what was she getting herself into?

---

When Renee showed up at Amy's, she was very happy to see her. She greeted Renee with a big smile and a hug, welcoming her eagerly into the house, meanwhile explaining that she was home alone, Wayne had taken Troy to his soccer game in Santa Monica. Renee felt horrible, for she was going to ruin Amy's cheerful mood with what she had to tell her.

"So, what brings you here?" Amy asked as she seated herself across from Renee in the living room, "Let me guess, you want to ask me some tips about making your sex life with John a little more exciting. Or, no, wait. You're just being nice and dropping by to visit for no apparent reason! You haven't done that in a while, last time was before John came back. Speaking of John, where is he anyway?"

"That's... kind of what I have to talk to you about," Renee said.

"About your sex life?"

"No," Renee frowned, "You're not going to like this, Amy."

Amy's smile slowly faded.

"What?" She asked quietly after a moment.

"Last night..." Renee began, but Amy hastily interrupted.

"Did he fucking hurt you because what I let slip about you and Troy?" she demanded, "Because if he did, let me at him!"

"No! He wouldn't ever hurt me, Amy."

"Then what?" Amy looked somewhat relieved, but she still looked horrified at what Renee was going to say.

"Last night, John received a message from Cortana, the AI," Renee said slowly, "She sent him an audio clip, of a static message received from somewhere in the galaxy. It was Spartan-087, Kelly, who John thought to be dead. She needs help, where ever she is. John's... going back. He's rejoining the UNSC." Renee paused to watch Amy's expression totally switch to one of utter disbelief.

"Fuck Kelly!" Amy exclaimed angrily, "She was a total bitch to you and nearly fucked up your relationship by telling you a bunch of bull shit! John's not going to leave you just to save her ass! I won't let him!"

"Amy..." Renee took a deep breath, "John's not going to leave me. I'm going with him."

"What!?" Amy cried, "Have you lost your bloody mind?"

Renee shook her head.

"There's no persuading John, he's going," Renee answered, "And I told him if he goes, I go."

"You can't!" Amy snapped, "You'll end up getting yourself killed, that's what!"

"If you were in my position, wouldn't you do the same?" Renee was desperate for her to try and understand.

"Listen, I would never rejoin the UNSC if someone paid me all the money in the world," Amy explained, "3 years was more than enough for me. Not to mention I have Wayne and Troy. I could never leave them. If you've come here to ask me to come with you, there's your answer. No."

"I wouldn't expect you to leave your family," Renee said softly.

"Good," Amy snapped, and after a moment's pause, she continued, "Are you completely stupid or what, Renee? Do you realize what you're getting yourself into? You're going on a rescue mission for Kelly. I hope you don't forget what she did to you."

"John thinks that the others might be alive too," Renee explained, "Linda, Fred, maybe Dr. Halsey."

"If John was here right now I'd punch him," Amy exclaimed, "In the balls! Did he overdose on his pills or something? Who cares if they're alive?"

"John does."

"But he has you! I thought he wanted to live a normal life, not go back to all that shit."

"It will only be temporary," Renee assured her, "They only need John back because he's the commander of the Spartans. They're his responsibility. Once he finds them and brings them back to Earth, he'll leave again and it will be back to normal."

"How do you know?" Amy demanded, "How do you know you'll even find Kelly and the others? Did you ever think of how dangerous this is? For both of you? The Covenant may be gone, but there are the Insurrectionists. And god knows what fuckin' else."

"I'm aware," Renee answered, "I've thought it over. I'll do anything to be with John. I can't leave him."

"Go home," Amy said, "and fuck John, make sure it's good! Make it the best you've ever had, get knocked up with like, quadruplets, and then you can't go because you'll get gigantic and pop out a gazillion Spartan kids. You can't care for them by yourself, and thus John won't be able to leave you, and Miss Kelly can go jump into a black hole somewhere and end up in a strange galaxy filled with blob-like aliens that eat anything that moves. Kapow, problem solved."

"Amy," Renee sighed, "Get real."

Amy started to laugh. Renee just sat there and watched as Amy continued to laugh, a great maniacal laugh until she finally sucked in a breath of air and smartened up. Shaking her head, a big smile on her face, she declared,

"Renee, you are officially the craziest person I know. But I don't know what I'd do without you."

"I take it you're not angry?" Renee asked cautiously.

"No, I'm pissed!" Amy laughed, "But it's your decision. So, go ahead. I support your decision, as your best friend. As long as you come back alive, that's what you have to promise."

"I don't plan on getting killed," Renee answered, "I mean, how hard is this going to be? We just have to find Kelly, and anyone else that's alive, and bring them back to Earth. I've heard much more complicated things."

"You almost died last time, don't forget," Amy told her, "Keep your helmet on all times, even when you're sleeping. No more hitting your head. Or getting shot for that matter," She heaved a big sigh, "You're crazy, I hope you know that."

"Maybe it's a good thing," Renee smiled slightly.

"I don't see how it could be," Amy made a face, "Crazy people do crazy things, that usually end up getting them killed."

"You're going to try and tell me that you're not crazy?"

"I'm a safer crazy than you. You're recklessly crazy. I'm not the dimwit who's rejoining the UNSC just so she can follow her boyfriend because she can't bear to be away from him again," Amy smiled largely, pointing her finger at Renee, "That, my friend is you."

"I will miss having you with me," Renee confessed, "It won't seem right."

"Cause it's not right," Amy snapped her fingers, "See, there's your gut feeling coming in right there. Don't ignore it. You're _not _meant to go."

"If you didn't have Troy, would you come with me?"

"What, are you going to ship him off somewhere?" Amy joked, "No, I wouldn't ever rejoin the UNSC. Especially now, the war is over! I didn't join because I was some army buff. I joined to fight for humanity, and because I would be left alone if you and Fish joined and I didn't. I killed my fair share of aliens, I'm good. I've served my time, but apparently that man of yours can't get enough."

"Hm." Renee bit her lip thoughtfully, "If he truly didn't want to do it, he wouldn't."

"Maybe you can sway him," Amy raised an eyebrow, "Make him unable to get enough of _you_. Sex him up nice when you get home. Have him begging for more. Experiment. Wait!" Amy jumped up from her seat, looking excited, "Bondage! With steel chains!" She beamed, staring at Renee, eagerly waiting for her response, "He won't be able to leave you!"

"You call _me _crazy," Renee seemed a little terrified, "How is it you always seem to bring the conversation back to something so, trivial? Not to mention highly unrealistic."

"It is _not _unrealistic!" Amy snapped, "You'd be surprised what you can do."

"My decision is final," Renee answered, "John can't be swayed. Neither can I. I'm going. I just wanted to come and tell you that."

"So, when are you leaving?" she frowned, accepting that the joke was over.

"I'm not sure," Renee replied, looking thoughtful as she chewed on her thumbnail, "John went to go talk to Lord Hood, and he'll be sorting out those issues with him. I'll know later today or tomorrow, I suppose. I promise not to leave you out of any details."

"Oh, Renee," Amy heaved a big sigh, "I would say bring me back a souvenir, but you're not going anywhere significant," she cracked a smile, "You know, I'm still debating whether or not I should slap you for being such an airhead."

"I could bring Troy back something," Renee suggested, "He's got that interest in the UNSC and space."

"An interest I wish he wouldn't have," Amy cringed, "You know, he told me the other day that he wanted to one-day join the UNSC like we did. I nearly flipped on him, but Wayne had to go along with it. Wayne, the stupid bastard, he never fought a day in his life – he doesn't get it."

"You can't expect people who weren't a part of the war to understand," Renee raised her eyebrows, "Mom made that very apparent to me, with her ridiculously sheltered opinions."

"And her hating John," Amy scoffed. Her face suddenly lit up, and she snapped her fingers, "Oh, right! I talked to your mother for you."

"Oh, no," Renee sighed, "What did you say?"

"I just explained to her how good of a guy John is," Amy shrugged, "I think a second person's opinion might've swayed her a little. Or at least softened her opinion on him."

"I have to tell her this news," she didn't sound at all enthusiastic, "And when I tell her I'm going because John's going, she'll flip her shit. I'm planning on leaving her a note..."

"Don't worry about her," Amy answered, "I think Harriet is having a hard time accepting that you're not her little nineteen year old daughter anymore. You're a full-grown woman, make own decisions. You don't have to sit around waiting for your mother's approval, that was years ago. Even then, did you really do what she said half the time anyway?"

"No," Renee cracked a smile.

"Besides," Amy said, "If Fisher was in John's place; your mother wouldn't care if you went fucking sky diving with him. It's just because it's John. Don't worry about it. Go with John, whatever feels right to you – you know your limits better than I do, Renee. I just want to see the both of you alive when you come back."

---

**LA UNSC Base**

Lord Hood and John had listened over the audio tape Cortana had sent John several times, at first wordlessly. John could sense the moment that he had walked into the UNSC base to see him; Lord Hood knew what was going on. Cortana hadn't forgotten about sending a copy of the audio and a different message to him, as well.

"You know what I'm going to do, sir?" John asked lowly as once the audio clip finished its fifth replay. The two of them were sitting in front of the computers in the same room they'd been in the other day, although this time the lights were on, making the room brightly white.

Lord Hood glanced up at John, taking in his cleanly shaven face, serious eyes, slightly frowning mouth. His eyebrows were so furrowed that they almost cast his entire eyes in shadow, despite the hue of the room.

"I do," Lord Hood answered, "I wouldn't expect you to want to do anything else."

"A part of me longs to stay here," John said after a beat, "But then, there's this part of me that rules over any other emotions I may be harbouring," he glanced up to meet Lord Hood's eyes, "The part of me that can never be ironed out - the fact that I'm a soldier." His dark eyes went back down to a place on the table, "Kelly is out there, alive. I have a feeling that if she is, perhaps the others are too. Linda, Fred, maybe even Dr. Halsey. It's my sole mission to find them, bring them back. Wherever they are, they're stranded. They need help. I know my Spartans, and they would never ask for help unless they absolutely needed it, sir."

"Well, you know no one is going to hold you back, John," Lord Hood told him, "Your rank will be returned, and your armor, although it will need a little polishing up first." He smiled slightly, and John returned it in a minute fashion. Lord Hood heaved a sigh, "You know what's best. What will you need?"

"A team of the best you've got, ten to fifteen men," John answered, "A ship of course – a frigate, preferably. The usual issue, weapons, ammo, provisions, first aid supplies – as well as LRVs. And," he paused for a moment, "Cortana."

"She'll be honoured to serve with you again," Lord Hood agreed.

"One more thing, it's more of a concern, sir," John leaned back in his chair, looking thoughtful, "Renee Kilburn, she... wants to come with me. I'm against the idea of course, but she is insisting upon it. Would that be possible, considering her discharge due to head trauma – and her overall physical condition?"

"It will take a bit of time to put together everything needed for this mission," Lord Hood explained, "During that time; it would be the perfect opportunity to give her a refresher course. Although, it won't be up to me – she'll have to be thoroughly assessed. I know they'd be somewhat sceptical of an ex-marine who spent eighteen years in an unresponsive coma."

"Yes, sir," John nodded.

"She mustn't want you to go," Lord Hood observed.

"No, sir," he shook his head, "Not at all. When she failed to persuade me to stay, she went to the next extreme, saying that she'd come with me," he chuckled slightly, but his face turned into a frown, "I don't know if she is capable of this. So far, we have little insight into what this mission will be. It could be simple, or dangerously complex." John's brow furrowed, "Kelly, Linda and Fred disappeared in 2552 shortly after the glassing of Reach, along with Dr. Halsey. I've theorized there was something the Doctor needed them for – she more than often acted by herself, not waiting for permission from the Top Brass. This thing that probably captured her attention was far from simplistic. And whatever happened has rendered them stranded."

"Nowadays, nothing is simple," Lord Hood sighed.

"Hm."

"I'll tell you what, John," he explained, "I'm due to head back to Florida tomorrow, you and Renee will come with me. Then we can start to actually plan what we are going to do." He paused, "Master Chief."

John, upon being addressed by his old rank, felt a strange feeling. He realized that it was pride, and was momentarily confused. He'd never been one to lavish the feeling of it.

---

Renee was already home when John pulled in the driveway, she'd been watching television – tuning into the news to see the video of her and John, to be exact – but quickly abandoned the idea, hurrying to greet him at the door. She just reached the hallway when he came inside, his cheeks and nose noticeably sunburned. Taking his sunglasses off and tossing them all the way into the kitchen, where they landed on the counter – he accepted Renee's hug.

The hug lasted for a while, until Renee decided to pull back and make the daunting effort of tipping her head back to meet his eyes, where she gave him a little smile.

"What's the verdict?" she asked jokingly.

"We leave for Florida tomorrow," John answered solemnly.

"So soon?" Renee seemed to be taken aback by his reply. At first her face portrayed surprise, but she forced herself to look indifferent, "Well, that's good, I suppose..." she smiled, "The sooner we can get started on this the sooner we can be done, right?"

"That's the way to think," John shrugged, walking past her into the kitchen and then into the living room, where he dropped onto the couch. Renee was quick to follow him, looking somewhat concerned.

"Is there something wrong?" she questioned as she sat down beside him.

"When isn't there something wrong?" he muttered with disinterest.

"How did it go? Talk to me," Renee commanded.

"Lord Hood wasn't surprised," John sighed, "Cortana sent him the audio file as well, so he knows what is going on. He agrees with everything we talked about, I suppose. He understands, he'll help me get what I need together to prepare for the retrieval mission."

"Did you ask him about me?"

"Yes," John nodded, "And he said, it's up to you. If you come with me with the intentions of rejoining, you'll be put through a good deal of physical training. Think boot camp all over again, except condensed into a shorter time period."

"I'm well aware of what I'll be put through."

"Really?" he asked softly, raising an eyebrow, "I don't think you do. And I don't think you're capable."

"Have faith in me," Renee snapped, "You just don't want me to get hurt."

"Well that's nothing new, is it? I'm concerned."

"Well don't be, John. I'm more capable than you think I am," Renee answered, "I remember how to do everything. I bet my shooting is still accurate as it was way back then."

"But look at yourself," John said quietly, "You weigh less than you did before, I doubt you have the strength to complete one pull up."

"I can rebuild my muscles," she sighed, seeming impatient, "I'm determined. If I want to do it, I will. And I have to, I will make it. I have to stay with you."

John let out a sigh, feeling his frustration beginning to build. She _was _determined, and aggravatingly stubborn – just like he was. He felt that he was getting in an argument with himself.

"No you don't," John looked at her earnestly, "This isn't going to be like the war. You don't have to worry about me getting killed. I won't be gone long, the mission is simple..." He paused when he saw Renee was fixing him with a horrible glare.

"Stop lying to me," She snapped.

"I'm not."

"Yes, you are!" Renee laughed slightly, "You don't know how this is going to be! You don't even know where Kelly is. You don't know what type of danger she could be in. You don't know how long this is going to last..."

"I'll be gone a month at the most," John said, trying to calm her down. He knew very well that she was right, but he didn't want to her to worry. There was nothing he knew of that could cause this mission to be longer than a month. Technically speaking, it _could _last more than a month, but the chances of that happening were generally slim, "Renee, please. You can stay here, you've got Amy. You won't be alone."

"Stop, John," Renee snapped, "I'm not staying."

John felt his anger boiling; he had to exhale deeply before facing her again. When he did, he pointed a finger right at her, every authoritative and intimidating vibe in his body coming out in his voice and expression.

"Yes, you are." He growled, "That's final."

"No," she said defiantly, not backing down, "This is one battle you're _not _winning."

"Really?" John scoffed, a mocking smile coming onto his face, "You actually think you can take even one step out of this house if I don't want to let you?" He took her by the shoulders, but his grip wasn't strong enough to hurt her, he made sure of that, "You can't get up off this couch if I don't want to let you."

"I'll make you a bet," Renee said, Amy's idea coming to her mind, "If you can survive my idea of boot camp, I will stay here," she gave him a little smile, leaning in so she was inches from his face, "That means, no giving in. Not so much as a noise."

"Who are you, and what have you done with Renee?" John asked lowly, his expression absolutely poker faced. Renee could tell that by this, he was willing to try this bet – and for a moment, he looked unconfident, "I shouldn't have let you visit Amy alone. I'm assuming her husband and son _weren't_ there."

"You assume correctly," Renee smiled, leaning in and giving him a kiss.

"It's strange," John said, pausing to receive another kiss from Renee, "You don't normally listen to what she tells you to do."

"Who says this is _her _idea?" she smiled innocently, raising an eyebrow.

"I know that you wouldn't come up with something like this," John answered, holding back a smirk, "So, judging by Amy's eagerness to help you, she's on your side with letting you go on this thing?"

"She's mad," Renee answered, kissing John again, "At both of us."

"She'll only need to be mad at one of us, and that's me," John stood up off the couch, but Renee reached out and grabbed his arm.

"No, I told you, I'm coming."

"I don't make bets."

"You don't have to make a bet," Renee answered, feeling suddenly embarrassed that she had actually suggested that she would try to make John comply by means of pleasuring him. She could feel her cheeks flustering, "I'm just going with you. Face it; you need me just as much as I need you! Give me a chance to prove myself! I will ace anything they send my way – and, and if I don't... I will go home – but that's the only way."

John looked down at her for a while, with his default expression – the one that really portrayed nothing. He watched Renee's face change, ever so slightly, from a look of determination to slight intimidation – that's when he realized he must have a harder look on his face than he figured. John looked away from her.

"Fine." He said lowly, "In that case, I hope you fail the tests," John met her eyes and frowned, "I don't want anything to happen to you."

"I don't want anything to happen to _you_," she whispered back.

John let out a deep sigh, and bent down to kiss her on the forehead. They shared a gaze for a while, until John spoke again.

"You weren't really going to try what Amy suggested..." He seemed cautious, yet there was a hint of curiosity on his face, his mouth was twitching slightly as he held back a pending smirk.

"No," Renee said quickly, her cheeks reddening again.

"Figured," John tipped his head to the side, "Although it would be interesting to see what you would try to do to make me lose concentration – considering I've stood there and had drill sergeants scream in my face and not so much as blinked." He paused, watching her face turn even a deeper shade of red, "You're blushing."

"I know!" Renee laughed, picking up the couch pillow and burying her face in it.

John chuckled, reaching forward and yanking the pillow out of her grasp, then he sat down beside her, bringing up his hands to her face and turning her head towards him. She immediately lowered her eyes and started to laugh.

"John, don't!"

"Look at me," John allowed a full-fledged smile come onto his face.

"No!" she squealed, turning her face away, but John grabbed her by the chin and turned her head back to face him. He kissed her roughly, but the kiss soon became passionate as she wrapped her hands around his neck, stifling a giggle.

--

Later, in the evening, John and Renee were both in the bedroom, a single suitcase laid out on the bed to share between them. They'd each packed a change of clothes and their personal hygiene items – it wasn't much. The suitcase didn't look complete, even with the contents folded and packed away neatly – the right side of the suitcase being John's things, the left side Renee's. They were both standing in front of it, staring at its contents as if they were trying to figure out what was missing. The strange thing was, there _wasn't_ anything missing. That was all they needed to take with them, John had explained. When they would be returned their ranks, they would be re-issued their basic uniforms, dress uniforms and battle uniforms and associated accessories.

Renee let out a deep sigh, folding her arms on her chest, narrowing her eyes.

"I can't really believe we're doing this," she laughed slightly, looking up to John.

"I can't believe I'm _letting _you do this," was John's disapproving response.

"I'm not getting into another argument with you," she said plainly, giving him a light punch to the arm, "When we get to the base in Florida they'll iron the civilian out of us, though."

"I don't know about me," John replied, "I don't think I've quite made the transformation to a 'civilian'."

"You're right," Renee said after a moment, "You're too serious."

"What do you mean?" he raised an eyebrow, "Not nearly as bad as before."

"You wouldn't let me pack any make-up," she frowned.

"We're not going to a fashion show."

"I was just bringing some cover-up and eyeliner," Renee shrugged, "Amy and I snuck in make-up the first time. Oh wait, you won't sympathise, you don't understand what it's like for a girl without her make-up."

"You don't need make-up," John sighed.

"Yes I do," Renee argued, "Some days, if I don't get enough sleep, my eyes get right puffy, and I get dark circles. I look like a zombie."

"You do need some boot camp," John hissed, "To iron this attitude out of you," he gave her a little grin, "I'll like to see you crying for your make-up when you fall into one of the many mud puddles in the obstacle course. No one cares what you look like. I certainly don't. I love you for who you are."

"You don't get it," Renee rolled her eyes, "Why are you suddenly being so..." she trailed off, unable to come up with a word to describe it.

"If you are going to miss your beloved make-up so much," John said as he closed the suitcase, snapping the locks shut, "Stay here."

"No," she instantly snapped.

"I wish you would," John muttered, taking the suitcase off the bed and heading downstairs to put it by the door. He heard Renee hurrying along behind him.

"Don't start that again!" she said, "I'll fight you, and win."

John laughed out loud, setting the suitcase in the foyer by the door. He turned to face Renee, who had paused on the last stair to try and look intimidating. Unable to hold back a smile, he walked up to her.

"Will you now?" he questioned, raising a brow.

"Yes," She said, standing up straighter.

"You're not as short," he grinned. It was true, by standing on the step Renee gained about four inches, but she still didn't have enough to compete with his superior height of 6'10". Renee's brow furrowed as she realized she was unsuccessful in being taller than John, and also in being able to convince him that beating him up would be a possible feat.

"We should head to bed," John suggested, "I'm up early tomorrow. 600 hours – and I'll be dragging you with me."

"Oh, cruel!" Renee exclaimed, grimacing at the thought.

"You better start getting used to it," John told her, taking her hand and leading her up the stairs, "For your first couple of days in re-training, they'll probably get you up at 0500, or who knows, earlier. Lord Hood will be picking us up at 900 hours and we'll be taking off from the UNSC base – he's got a private plane."

Renee just groaned – pausing in the bedroom doorway, but John gently shoved her inside. They quickly got ready for bed, John didn't bother undressing – he just brushed his teeth and got into bed, Renee following not long after, after closing the curtains.

"It's just twilight out," she huffed, staring at the ceiling, "You can't expect me to go to sleep."

"I order you to go to sleep," John told her, but he gave her a little smile.

She let out a sigh, rolling on her side away from him. John wrapped his arm around her middle – but he knew that getting to sleep would be difficult. His stomach was in a knot, his brain was buzzing with thoughts. The feeling that was coursing through him was unexplainable. He hadn't quite felt anything like it before, so he guessed that it was a mix of several emotions put together.

He wished that Renee didn't want to come with him. As much as he wanted to be with her, he didn't want her to be in any sorts of danger. He didn't want to see her being put through the hell of boot camp all over again. He definitely didn't want her to be anywhere near weapons. A shiver ran down his spine, as he recalled the day she was shot. Surprised that his memory betrayed him like that, he shoved the thought out of his mind.

John tried to listen to the minority party in his mind – the optimistic side. It was telling him in an almost sing-song voice that everything would run smoothly. They would be able to coordinate Kelly's whereabouts, take an almost leisurely Slipspace jump to her location, find her and anyone else alive, and take them back to Earth. No conflicts, no injuries, no deaths. No complications whatsoever.

Then there was this other side, the pessimistic side. For some reason, it was louder, and its possibilities seemed more believable. There would be complications, there would be conflicts. There might be deaths. To sum it all up:

It sure as hell wouldn't be a walk in the park.

**A/N: **My apologies thought I would get it up sooner than this. Anyway, it's done and out of the way. Now, I have to start writing the next one. Hope you enjoyed it. – AB


	11. Farewell, LA

**Chapter 11 – Farewell, LA**

**August 20****th****, 2553 – Los Angeles**

When John woke up, it was just beginning to become light outside. He checked the clock beside bed, 5:53. Not bad, considering he wasn't relying on any alarm. He forced himself to get out from under the warmth of the blankets and sit up, where he did the usual ritual of yawning, stretching and rubbing his eyes.

Leaving Renee to get a couple more minutes of sleep, he went to the bathroom to splash water on his face. It woke him up fully with a little shock; the water was colder on his face than it had been on his hands. Turning off the water and shaking his hands dry, he looked up into the mirror.

He looked tired despite how he felt, his facial expression was dull, dark circles were beneath his eyes, mouth was formed into some type of a frown. Glancing back over his shoulder into the bedroom, where he could see Renee sleeping soundly, he realized that he could skip breakfast, take her things out of the suitcase and get Lord Hood to come pick him up early. He could leave without her – but John knew that he couldn't. There was a part of him that wanted to, but he knew a larger part of him didn't want to be without her – still, he cursed himself for letting her do this to herself.

Letting out a sigh, John turned and walked into the bedroom, where he went over to Renee's side of the bed. For a moment, he watched her sleep – her expression was peaceful and innocent. But then, he reached out and took her by the shoulder and shook her.

"Get up, Corporal!" he barked, a smirk coming to his face.

He watched as Renee's brow furrowed as her eyes were still closed. She brought her hand up and swatted at him, letting out a groan and muttering something unintelligible, before rolling over away from him.

"Get up, that's an order!" John repeated, raising his voice. He waited for a second, but she didn't respond at all this time. Then, John propelled himself forward, jumping over her and landing on the bed heavily beside her. Her eyes flew open, and met his.

"What?" she groaned.

"Don't act like you don't know," John said softly, "Get up, marine."

"I'm not a marine yet," was her witty reply. She gave him a sleepy smile as she stirred beneath the blankets.

"If you try and pull this with your training instructor, guaranteed they'll flip your mattress – with you on it. And trust me; it's a lot easier to just get up when you're told instead of being tossed onto the cold, hard floor."

"Just give me a few more minutes," she muttered sleepily, her eyes fluttering closed as she pulled the blanket up closer to her face.

"As much as I love you, no," John replied, and he yanked the blankets off her completely.

"No!" she wailed, curling up into the fetal position. Her eyes opened again, and she gave him a piercing glare, "You're horrible, I hope you realize that."

"I love you too," John whispered, with a grin, kissing her on the forehead and jumping out of bed.

"You win, I'm up," she sounded unpleased, but sat up and got out of bed. On her way to the bathroom, she gave him a pretty hard punch to the arm – John actually felt it.

"Ow," John pretended to be hurt, watching her over his shoulder as she walked into the bathroom and shut the door. Raising his voice, he called, "That's going to give me a bruise!"

"You deserve it!" she called back.

John chuckled, shaking his head. He turned and began to make the bed, fixing the blankets and puffing the pillows. He had just opened the curtains when Renee walked out of the bathroom. When he turned to face her, he saw she was examining her hair, holding some in front of her face, before letting it fall back down over her shoulders.

"They're going to cut it off," she declared, making a chopping gesture, "I kind of forgot about that."

"I liked your hair short," John complemented, "its nice now, but it was nice then, too."

"You never seen me with really short hair," she remarked, "When I first joined, it was like a boy's."

"I did, actually," he answered.

"How?" Renee made a face.

"I looked at your file," John shrugged, "The picture hadn't been updated."

She smirked a little.

"I'm not sure if I want it that short again," she admitted, "But, there's probably nothing I can do about it."

"No, I'm sure you can tell them you'd prefer it chin-length." John explained, "Though you won't get away with anything more I don't expect."

Renee stifled a yawn and nodded.

"I suppose we should have breakfast, although I'm not that hungry." She sighed, "It'll just be a granola bar for me."

"Me too," he answered.

---

Breakfast was quick. They each had the planned granola bar, and a glass of orange juice. While John's food and drink were gone in a matter of seconds, Renee sipped thoughtfully at her juice and pulled the granola bar apart in little pieces, eating them separately – as if she was savoring each little part. Her eyes went from John to around the room as she chewed slowly – before she let out a sigh.

"I'm just kind of realizing... this is going to be my last meal in this house for a while," she admitted, noticing John had finished and was watching her with interest, "I can't really help but want to make it last a little longer than normal." She attempted to smirk, but it looked false, as they both knew there was nothing to really smile about.

"Hm," was John's low reply. He reached out and began fiddling with the wrapper from the granola bar, making a crinkling noise. He crumpled it up into a little ball in his fist, and then let it drop onto the table, where it rolled slightly and came to rest lop-sided in its misshapen state. John looked at it for a while, before finally shoving back his chair and walking out of the room.

"Where are you going?" Renee called after him.

"Getting my data pad," he answered as she heard him thumping up the stairs.

Renee let out a sigh, running her fingers through her hair, taking this moment alone to let the thoughts she'd been holding back come to the forefront of her mind. They overwhelmed her instantly, and she wasn't sure how she felt – the full realization of what she was about to do hitting her like a bag of bricks. Struggling to maintain her expression, she finished the last of her orange juice, and then stood up, taking the wrappers and the empty glasses, tossing the wrappers in the garbage. As she put the glasses in the sink, she felt her legs go weak.

Grabbing onto the counter for support, she lost control of her emotions. Her face crumpled, her head slumped down onto her chest, and the back of her hand flew up to her mouth to try and suppress the sob that had suddenly come up in her throat. She could picture the final day on Hydra, Troy's death, John grappling with the Elite, and finally, the choppy images during and after being shot.

"How can I do this?" she whispered to herself, her voice high and hysteric, "How can I..." she choked back a sob, shaking her head, looking up out of the window into the yard and the neat little house next door, where a couple of children were running and playing. She knew she had to go through with this, she couldn't last without John.

Panicking to reach a state of composure as she heard John coming back down the stairs, Renee sniffed loudly and wiped at her eyes, exhaling a deep breath. Fixing a couple pieces of hair, she regained her strength and turned to face John the moment he came back into the room, looking at the data pad before slipping it into his pocket. He took a glance at the cleared table.

"I hope you were done," Renee announced, her voice coming out normal – and for that she was grateful.

"I was," John replied, meeting her eyes, "Though, I will probably take a couple snacks for on-the-go..." He trailed off, studying her features, and frowned, "What's wrong?"

"Oh, nothing's wrong, it's just that I'm thinking about what's ahead," She shrugged, forcing a smile on her face. As an excuse to turn away from him, she began to rinse out the orange juice residue from the glasses. Renee glanced up to the window again, expecting John to come up behind her and demand that he tell her the truth, what really was upsetting her. He didn't.

Instead, he just said:

"Same here."

There was silence except for the rushing of the water out of the tap. When Renee decided the glasses were well enough rinsed, she shut off the tap and turned to face John, and found he was leaning up against the opposite counter, arms folded on his chest – staring at somewhere on the floor.

"I can tell you don't want to go," he declared after a moment, tearing his eyes away from the floor to meet hers.

Renee could feel her face betraying her as she panicked at this unexpected statement.

"I _do _want to go," she said.

"No you don't," John shook his head, "You are cringing at the thought of it. Listen to what your conscience is telling you. It's not too late to change your mind. In fact, I'd feel much more at ease if you..."

"I'm coming."

John shut up except for proceeding to sigh. He pursed his lips, and shook his head slightly, an expression of near-dismay crossing his face. He didn't even want to bother arguing with her; despite he knew very well that this whole idea of rejoining the UNSC was an upset to her. It was something she didn't want to do, but she refused to be left alone. Technically, she wouldn't be alone, he'd tried to sway her before, that she had Amy, Wayne, little Troy and her friend Thomas from the diner. She had her parents and other relatives – but she was going to endure this, which was equivalent to hell for her, just so that she could be with him.

"Stupidity at its highest," He told her.

Renee just shook her head, blocking out his words.

That's when they heard the front door open. John's head whipped around at lightning speed, instantly tensing up, looking like he was going to kill someone – Renee caught on to this with uneasiness. But when Amy's voice floated into the room, he relaxed.

"Hellooo!" she cried, and she poked her head in the room. She was still wearing her pyjamas, but had thrown a light sweater on over top.

John and Renee greeted her at the same time.

"Give me a hug," Amy danced into the kitchen, hurrying over to Renee and wrapping her arms around her. She squeezed Renee tightly, almost to the point where it hurt, but despite the intense squeeze, Renee laughed at her friend's sudden appearance. She looked over Amy's shoulder as John suddenly threw open the cupboard door, took out his bottle of pills and threw a pill down his throat.

That explained his edginess, Renee realized. She made a mental note to make sure he _didn't _forget to bring them with him to Florida. It was kind of moving to see how different he could be when he didn't have his pills. And he'd just been a little late to take them.

Amy missed out on this, for she turned around and hurried over to John and gave him an equally big hug. He wasn't expecting it, the expression on his face showed that. It took him a moment to realize that he should gently hug her back. Giving Renee a funny look, John awkwardly patted Amy's back.

"I'll miss you both!" Amy sounded upset, even with her face buried in John's shoulder. After a moment, she made something that sounded similar to a purring noise, "Jeez John, I wish my husband had such a solid body. You're right warm too."

Renee laughed out loud at this, while John didn't know how to exactly respond, he just screwed his face up into a little half-hearted smirk.

"Okay?" He finally replied.

Amy withdrew her face from John's shoulder and peeked out at Renee, giving her a grin.

"I'm stealing your man," she declared, "Switch you roles sometime when you guys get back."

"Sorry," Renee shook her head, "Not going to happen."

Letting out a chuckle, Amy pouted.

"You wouldn't mind, would you, John?" She looked up at him with doe eyes – but winked at him, unable to keep a smirk off her face.

"Uh, you're my friend, Amy," He took her by the shoulders and pried her off him, "Can't think of you in any other form."

"Bravo, John," Amy smiled, "Loyalty can be rare to find these days."

He looked somewhat pleased with himself that he responded correctly, but he leaned back against the counter, folding his arms on his chest, probably to keep Amy from hugging him again.

"So," Amy declared, looking at both of them, "As you can see, I got out of bed early and came over here to see you guys, just in case I'd miss you if I came later. What time are you leaving?" she frowned.

"Lord Hood is coming to pick us up at 900 hours," John responded quickly.

"9 o-clock, John," Amy huffed jokingly, rolling her eyes, "That's what we civilians say. Oh, right, you're not going to be a civilian for while... you or Renee." She cleared her throat, and pointed a finger at John, "I've got a job for you, babe. And that's keeping Renee safe," she glanced at her friend, "She's reckless and crazy for deciding to come with you – I'm even a little offended that she didn't want to stay home with me – and she's just as clumsy as she was eighteen years ago, if not worse. Not saying that you didn't do a good job saving her ass previously, but you should keep an eye on her as much as you can. No more getting shot, no more falling out of Pelicans, nothing. You keep her in check. Lastly," Amy paused, and she reminded John of an officer giving orders, "Lastly you will _not _stop having sex."

"Amy!" Renee shouted, slapping her hand to her forehead in utter disbelief.

"No, listen," Amy said, glancing back over her shoulder at her friend before looking back at John with a serious expression, "John, just because you'll be macho Spartan Master Chief again, that doesn't mean it's all about guns and rescuing Spartan chick what's-her-fuck. Renee will still want you, probably more since you'll be back in your armor – you're fucking sexy in that shit, man – and you have to promise me that you guys will _somehow _get intimate at least once a week. Maybe twice, or hell, thrice."

John's expression was highly comical. One of his eyebrows was raised drastically, his eyes narrowed, mouth slightly hanging open – something about it made it look like he was in some sort of pain.

"I'm serious!" Amy continued, "Now I'm not saying you have to..." she trailed off, and lowered her voice as if Renee wasn't supposed to hear, "..._fuck_... but... even if she just..." Amy stuck her tongue in her cheek.

"No," John declared, turning away from her, shoving his hand in her face, "Stop. Just stop."

"Are you a pussy?" Amy shouted, laughing while grabbing his hand and wrenching it down, "Can't take my talk? Well I'm sorry John, would you want me to use anatomical terms?"

"I want you to stop," John gave her a serious look.

"Ok, ok," Amy surrendered, but she added quickly, "But no jerking off!"

"Jesus!" John threw his hands in the air. Renee started to laugh – she was embarrassed, but there was no denying that John and Amy were hilarious – especially John's reactions. She watched as he flew out of the room – and Amy followed him like she was attached by an invisible string.

"John, get back here!" Renee heard her calling – then the closing of the bathroom door. Then Amy pounding on it with her fist, "You're not going to do what I said! I didn't turn you on that much, I would've seen it in your pants, buddy. You can't hide what you've got." There was silence for a moment, then John shouting:

"Renee, get her away from me!" Then there was more knocking on the door, Amy shouting for him to open up. Renee was still laughing, as she made her way out into the hallway – and saw Amy outside the bathroom door, trying to peek in through the keyhole, a crazy look on her face.

"I can see you, John. Well, your leg. And, ooh, your ass. You'd better not be planning to climb out the window..."

"Okay, that's enough," Renee tried to keep her face serious as she pulled her friend away from the door, "You've gone seriously overboard."

Amy started to howl.

"This is too FUN!" she cried, doubling over and slapping her knee. Still laughing, she collapsed into the corner of the hallway, "His reactions are priceless!"

"You're crazy!" Renee exclaimed in disbelief, staring at her friend as she continued to laugh from her corner.

"Yes she is!" John replied from within the bathroom. He opened the door slightly, and he looked almost frightened when he saw Amy unable to hold back maniacal laughter. She pointed at him, her howls dying down into giggles and then finally chuckles suppressed into the back of her hand she had shoved to her mouth.

John's expression at this point he'd gained control of. The default showed. Line of a mouth, dark shadows of eyes, furrowed brow. Renee only had to take one glance at him to realize that he'd had enough – but this abrupt switch, especially it being Amy, was different. That's when it hit her, he was _practicing_. There'd be no laughing at vulgar jokes where they were headed. Not even so much as a single smile that was out of place. A smile, she realized, would soon be reduced to the slight constricting of the corner of his mouth, to form something almost not worthy of being called a smirk. His eyes wouldn't portray nearly as much emotion, if any. His face, she realized she wouldn't even be seeing it that much. She'd be looking into the orange mirrored visor at the reflection of herself.

"Okay, okay," Amy picked up on John's seriousness – and she extended a hand to him so he'd help her up off the floor, "Truce. That's over."

John waited a moment before easily pulling Amy to her feet. Amy glanced to Renee and then back to John, bowing her head in shame, but a smirk was tugging at the corner of her mouth.

"Sorry, John," she apologized, "Just wanted to make my last conversation with you something memorable."

"Last?" he echoed, "I'm coming back."

"Of course you are," Amy cleared her throat, "You know what I meant." She looked to Renee, who had an expression almost as serious as John's, "You're not mad at me for verbally harassing him, are you?"

Renee shook her head, a light smile coming to her lips.

"You've succeeded in your mission," John declared to Amy, "I won't easily forget this."

"Great," Amy beamed, and she stood at attention in her pyjamas and old sweater and gave him a salute, then a wink, "I haven't forgot drill, hope you know."

"It's a hard thing to forget," was John's reply, glancing to Renee for a moment then back to her, "But you're the smarter one, here, Amy. Remembering drill and executing salutes in the safety of home."

Renee's expression altered, and she looked up to John.

"Calling me stupid again?" she asked softly. John just raised his eyebrows.

Amy snorted.

"He called you stupid?" she seemed amazed, "Fantastic, John! Because she is stupid... ditching me, Wayne, Troy, and maybe someone else for this," Amy put her hand on her stomach, not allowing for a pause, "But yeah, I almost forgot. I was going to bring you two super glue as a going away pre..."

"Amy!" Renee cut her off, "Are you saying..." she trailed off. A quick glance to John proved he hadn't caught on to Amy's dropped hint.

Amy smiled.

"I'm not boasting it around yet," she said quietly, "Because it's early... but my monthly friend's time to visit has come and gone. Nineteen days late and counting, so I'd say, yeah."

"That's great," Renee smiled, and she gave Amy an excited hug.

"I don't understand," John said lowly, looking at the two friends as they embraced.

"Troy's going to have a little sister or brother, maybe," Amy put it into plain context, breaking from the hug and gesturing to her stomach.

John, fighting to choose what expression to display, looked intensely at her stomach.

"A child?" John he said finally, looked up to her eyes.

"Good job," Amy laughed, "Not that hard of a puzzle to put together... and stop staring at me, I'm not showing yet."

"Congratulations," it sounded awkward coming from his mouth, his face was professional.

"Thanks," she replied, exchanging humorous glances with Renee.

"So you couldn't come with us even if you wanted to," Renee pointed out.

"Nope," Amy shook her head, "But I wouldn't ever want to, so there's nothing to be disappointed about, right John?"

"Well, I will miss your input," He confessed, a little smile coming to his face.

"Yeah, yeah, Renee will miss my advice," She winked at her friend, "But I'd say there's nothing I really need to coach you two about. You've got it down as lovers, I think."

"Not when it comes to listening to one another," John put in.

"Oh, Renee's always like that," Amy grinned, "She's got selective hearing. We could both shout 'Don't rejoin the UNSC' in her face and she'd tune us out."

"I don't have to listen," Renee replied, "Ultimately, it's my decision."

"You'll be listening when John's your superior," Amy gave a low whistle, "Master Chief will be telling you what to do, Corporal. Ooh," she bit her lip and looked to John, "Be sure to take that advantage, John. If you know what I mean."

Renee and John both sighed at the same time.

Amy apologetically put her hand to her mouth, holding back a smirk.

"Sorry." She looked to Renee, but stood on her tiptoes so she could whisper in John's ear, "You're an idiot if you don't, though. Imagine all you could get away with – a stressful day, you need some... release. Call her in, let her..."

John reached up and firmly placed his hand over Amy's mouth and proceeded to shove her away from him. She made a frustrated noise, but waited until he removed his hand.

"Your hand smells good," Amy complemented, "But you've made your point. I'm annoying you; you took no pleasure in me whispering dirty suggestions in your ear. Okay. Now let me get to my point. I will absolutely, completely, entirely miss you both on this ridiculous voyage you are taking." She clasped her hands together, her expression placid and no longer perverted, and gave John and Renee equally sad glances, "In fact, I'm not quite sure what I will do without you. There will be no one to talk to on the phone, no one to tease, no one to visit. Life shall carry on, however. Although it will be irritatingly similar to when John was still off fighting and you were in your coma." She looked to Renee, appearing like she was about to cry, "You're an idiot, but I'll miss you." She placed a hand on Renee's shoulder, and then looked to John, nodding solemnly, "You're not an idiot; however I'll miss you too."

John chuckled slightly.

"We'll miss you too, Amy," he replied earnestly. Renee nodded in agreement.

"I can't help but realize this could have been executed without the ridiculous previous proceedings," Renee announced, laughing a little.

"Yes, but it wouldn't have meant nearly as much," Amy added.

"I suppose you're right," Renee glanced to John with a shrug.

"Damn straight," Amy looked proud, "Well, I have to get back to my house before Troy wakes up and is upset when I'm not there making him his pancakes. And it's almost nine; you guys will be heading off soon," Amy paused, her eyes noticeably glittering, "So," she held out her arms, trying not to sound upset, "Group hug."

John and Renee obliged – and the trio's hug lasted for a good while, until finally Amy took a step back, sniffing loudly and wiping at her nose.

"See you when you get back," Amy clearly had to struggle to say this. She waited for Renee and John to reply, and then she turned around and walked to the front door. Hesitating before leaving the house, she finally walked out and closed the door behind her, not looking back.

John and Renee watched her blurred form through the decorative glass walk down the front steps, onto the sidewalk, take a right and disappear down the road.

"It _won't _be the same without her, will it?" Renee asked softly after a while.

"Not even close," John muttered, shaking his head.

---

**900 Hours **

The black car wasn't even stopped when John and Renee were out of the house and walking down the driveway to meet it at the curb. The back door of the car opened and Lord Hood stepped out, dressed in his signature white uniform. John, who handed the suitcase to the driver to put in the trunk, saluted Lord Hood, greeting him with an appropriate "Sir."

"John," Lord Hood greeted him with a nod of his head. He turned to look at Renee, who wasn't sure if to salute or not. Giving her a little smile, he said, "Let's see your salute, Miss Kilburn."

"Sir," Renee replied, and saluted, "Sorry sir."

"No need to apologize," Lord Hood said calmly, "You'll become used to it soon enough." He glanced from her up to John, who removed his sunglasses, "Are we ready?"

"Yes, sir," Renee and John managed to answer at the same time.

They got into the car, Renee was the last one. John and Lord Hood started their conversation almost immediately, before they even put on their seatbelts. Renee allowed their words to momentarily fall into a background noise as she watched her little house fall behind them as the car pulled away. She found herself pressing her nose against the glass, turning her head at an uncomfortable angle, keeping her eyes glued to it until she could no longer see it. She felt an aching in her chest and her stomach getting upset. Momentarily, the idea of yelling "Stop the car" up to the driver was desirable, but no. She agreed to do this. There was no turning back now.

Looking back towards the front of the car, she realized that John and Lord Hood had stopped their conversation and were both looking at her. She glanced at them, but didn't know what to say.

"How come I'm getting the feeling that your heart isn't in this?" Lord Hood asked.

"It is," Renee said quickly, remembering to add, "Sir."

"It's not too late to change your mind," he continued, "You don't have to do this."

"I have to," she answered, meeting John's eyes for a moment before looking to Lord Hood, "I mean, I want to. I knew Kelly. I feel like it's my job to help John find her, and anyone else if they're alive, sir."

"Hm." Lord Hood said quietly, "John's probably explained to you what's going to happen once we arrive."

"I think so," Renee answered.

"John will be reinstated as Master Chief Petty Officer as soon as we arrive at the base in Florida," Lord Hood said, "But for you, before you can be reinstated as Corporal, you'll have to undergo a series of tests. Mental and physical. I've contacted the Florida base, informing them of your condition. They've agreed to reinstate you if you pass the tests with average accuracy. This includes intense training to rebuild your stamina for the mission. The mission itself will take a while to organize – it will be have to be vetoed by the top brass, things will have to be collected and prepared, men have to be rounded up to aid John. During this time – which will take approximately a couple of weeks, you will be completing your tests. A day or so will be spent on drill, just to refresh your memory. From then on, they'll focus on your physical training. Weapon training, obstacle courses, running three miles, push ups, sit ups, just like boot camp."

Renee couldn't help but grimace at the thought.

"Yes, sir," she answered.

"A question, sir," John said, "What am I to be doing during the said two weeks?"

"You'll undergo a quicker analysis, although both you and I know you don't need it," Lord Hood smiled, "But the men in the top brass want to make sure you haven't lost your touch in the last few months."

"Understood, sir."

"It won't be long," Lord Hood didn't sound worried, "You could probably have it done in a couple of days, you won't have to do much to convince anybody. You're Master Chief."

John let out an amused "Huh" – and exercised his first what Renee liked to call "semi-smirk". As she watched him as he continued in a low conversation with Lord Hood, she couldn't help but feel that the John she'd become used to in the last few weeks was now slipping away. It was all business now, all protocol, and all orders. The civilian John had been left behind along with her little house. She could only hope that like her house, the civilian John would be waiting for her when she returned, whenever that would be.

---

When they arrived at the UNSC base, they had to go through security again, but since they were with Lord Hood, neither John nor Renee were questioned individually. Lord Hood's car was let through into the interior of the base, unlike their car had been.

Instead of getting out and heading into the main building, the car took another road, driving along different buildings of the base, until finally they came to a large windowless building, next to it was a chain link fence, and beyond that was an airfield – that seemed endless. Several airplanes were visible, high tech stealth jets that Renee had never seen before.

They got out of the car, and Renee found herself wandering close to the fence, looking at the jets on the other side. She glanced over her shoulder and saw Lord Hood and John were waiting for her, John with his suitcase in hand.

"Are we travelling in one of those?" she asked curiously. It was a dumb question she knew, but she had to ask it.

"No," Lord Hood looked amused, "They're definitely not passenger planes. In the right condition, they are capable of reaching speeds up to mach ten."

"Approximately 2.1 miles per second," John translated, and he watched Renee's jaw drop.

"Although it would get us to where we're going very quickly, we'll be taking something a little bit slower," Lord Hood said, gesturing to the airport building, "Let's go, they're waiting for us."

When they entered the building, it wasn't anything close to a public airport. There were no holographic screens displaying what flights were coming or going – probably because it was confidential. The three of them had to pass through security once again, including a hand print scan, retina scan and a metal detection system – all of this occurring before they were even ten feet into the building.

Once they'd made it past security with success, a man was waiting for them – tall, blonde, in his fifties. Lord Hood introduced him as his private pilot. He had a faint trace of a French accent, and seemed professional and particularly uninterested in formal introductions. Lord Hood told him who John and Renee were, and he just gave them a little nod before proceeding to tell Lord Hood that his plane was ready, and that their flight would take approximately three and a half hours.

John remembered that his flight from Florida to Los Angeles had taken just over eight hours.

"A faster plane?" John questioned either Lord Hood or his pilot.

"Fast as a private passenger plane is allowed," the pilot answered quickly, giving them a tight lipped smile, "Almost mach 3. But don't worry, it's safe. Take-off is quite fun, if you aren't afraid of flying." He kind of ended it as a question.

"Not at all," Lord Hood answered for them, "They're ex-UNSC personnel."

"Oh, well then," the pilot nodded, "You have nothing to worry about! Follow me please, you can leave your luggage here, the baggage men will take care of everything."

John, as he followed Lord Hood and the pilot, glanced down to Renee keeping pace beside him. Her expression was neither upset nor happy, it was indifferent. As if it wouldn't matter any less if she was doing this or if she wasn't. He could sense that she was wracking her brain right now; just by the way her mouth was slightly pursed. She was probably wondering to herself, what am I doing?

For a moment, he was compelled to reach over and take her hand, but he didn't want to act unprofessional. Or make the pilot or Lord Hood feel awkward. A small part of him thought, it's just holding her hand – and it wouldn't represent romance, it would be something to comfort her. He was just about to, when the pilot stopped and turned to face them.

"Before we continue," He announced, "All things such as cell phones, data pads – anything that sends and receives signals, must be shut off. If you have any last texts or phone calls to make, this would the time to do it."

John took out his data pad, and shut it off completely. He slipped it back into his pocket, and looked to Renee, and saw she had her cell phone open and looked to be using it.

"I'm just sending a message," she said quickly, her fingers flying over the keys. Renee was well aware that they were waiting for her – but this message was important. She was sending it to her mother. Getting it written in about a minute, she quickly re-read it.

"_For reasons you probably won't understand, I'm rejoining the UNSC with John. He has one last mission to complete and I'm going with him. Don't worry, it won't be dangerous. I should be home in a month or so. Try to not hate me too much. I'll miss you. Love you and Dad lots xox._"

Renee quickly sent it, then shut off her cell phone with a beep and flipped it shut, putting it in her pocket. She looked up to the others.

"We're good," she said.

Wordlessly, they continued down the hallway. John felt compelled to ask Renee who she had sent the message to, but realized it was really none of his business. He didn't so much wonder who it had been to, but what she had said. Had it been negative, or positive? Even if he were to ask her about it, it wouldn't be the right time or place.

Suddenly, his question was answered without even having to ask it. He happened to glance down at Renee, and she gave him a little smile.

"Sent it to Mom," she said lowly, grimacing, "Telling her where I was going."

"Rebellious," John replied in the same low voice. He gave her a little smirk – and she was reassured, realizing that her John hadn't been left at their home after all. John just had that part of him cleverly hidden beneath a stone mask.

"I feel bad for Dad," Renee rolled her eyes, "He'll be the one who has to calm her down when she reads it."

"He won't be as concerned?"

"Nah," she shrugged, "He has more faith in me – and since he hasn't got a son, my interest in the military makes up for it."

John watched her face with interest. Renee seemed to be in a better mood now than she had been moments before – more of a positive outlook on the situation and what she was getting herself into. Although he couldn't be exactly sure unless he asked her – and he'd have to ask her several times probably until receiving the full spiel – he got a good sense that she was feeling a little bit better.

They turned down a narrower hallway – with two doors at the end that opened automatically when they drew near. For a moment, the blinding light of the sun impaired their vision, Lord Hood, the pilot and Renee had to shield their eyes, but John cleverly put on his sunglasses.

Ahead of them on the tarmac, was their plane. It was relatively small – but sleek. The engines, however, were big. The plane would need them if it went as fast as the pilot said.

Renee felt a little bit of excitement as they walked towards the plane. This was her first time flying in an airplane since years – and the fact that it went fast – that was a bonus. She always had an underlying 'need for speed'. When she'd been younger, she and Troy had agreed that they'd split on a race car, and take it out into the deserts of Nevada for insane drives going well over 200 mph.

She was kind of disappointed at remembering this old memory, and the fact that it was a goal that she had never completed. Troy wasn't here to split the price with her, anyway. John and Amy wouldn't let her buy a car that went that fast, she knew it. But then again, they didn't want her to go on this mission, yet here she was.

Renee mentally decided to bring that subject up to John sometime – the idea of a sports car in her driveway instead of her simple little car was satisfying. John liked to go fast, didn't he? Maybe she'd have his vote – she could let him take it out for a spin. Maybe they could go to the deserts of Nevada...

"Renee!" John's voice snapped her out of her daydream – and she looked to him – and realized that Lord Hood and the pilot had already boarded the plane and John was waiting for her halfway up the stairs for her. The two men who were waiting to wheel the staircase away from the side of the plane kind of looked annoyed.

"Oh," she flustered, "Sorry!"

She hurried up the steps, and ducked into the plane. The interior was nice and spacious – she followed John down the aisle to the two seats across from Lord Hood. Behind her, Renee could hear the clunking as they shut and sealed the airplane door. John gestured for her to get in ahead of him.

"You can have the window," he said.

Renee gave him a little smile, and sat down. The seats were comfortable – she mentally decided that she would sleep for some of the three and a half hour flight – if she could get to sleep. At the moment, her heart was in her throat, and her stomach was fluttering with butterflies. As John sat down beside her, and they both put on their seatbelts – Renee exhaled deeply.

John said something to Lord Hood, but Renee didn't pay attention. She looked out the window to the tarmac – then jumped slightly as she felt the airplane shudder as the engines came to life. Not thinking about it, she reached over and grabbed his hand tightly.

John looked to her.

"Nervous?" he asked.

"A little," she admitted. It felt good to tell the truth. She gave him a little smile.

The airplane began to creep its way along the tarmac to the runway – and Renee held John's hand even tighter. A surprised expression came over his face.

"You're scared," He said, "Your face is pale."

"I'm just nervous," Renee laughed, "I'm not scared – I love to fly – taking off is especially fun."

"I know," Lord Hood agreed from across the aisle, "Especially in this plane."

The three of them laughed slightly.

Another look out the window confirmed that they were now on the runway – and Renee felt the airplane stop. There were a few seconds of silence, and then the engines erupted in a roar, and the plane jerked forward – and almost instantly they were pressed back into their seats.

Renee clamped her eyes shut for a moment, but laughed heartily, looking over to John and Lord Hood – although it was hard to lift her head off the seat.

"Ooh-rah!" she said.

"Ooh-rah," John and Lord Hood repeated in agreement.

She felt the airplane leave the ground – and they were in the air. The g-forces strengthened as the plane's speed increased – but she forced herself to look out the window. She couldn't see the ground – there were whispy clouds flying past the window. Exhaling deeply, she leaned back in her seat.

There was no turning back now.

---

**A/N: **This chapter took me a little longer than usual to finish, sorry about that. Busy week. As usual, enjoy. - AB


	12. Initiation

**Chapter 12: Initiation**

** August 21****st****, 2553 - Florida UNSC Base, Orlando, Florida, USA**

When John, Renee and Lord Hood stepped off the plane, they received a warm welcome. Several high ranking officers – several Lieutenants, Captains and even a General or two. John had barely stepped off the last step before snapping to immediate attention, saluting sharply and greeting them with the appropriate "Sirs!"

Renee was quick to copy him, although she silently envied that she didn't look nearly as sharp as he did – she was rusty compared to John, and by the looks on the men's faces, she could tell that they noticed. They were all dressed in uniform and wore calm expressions, and replied to their salutes with nods.

Lord Hood, who wasn't required to salute, folded his arms behind his back and looked to the men. One of the Generals said "Welcome back to Florida, Lord Hood."

"Thank you," he answered calmly, and he looked to John and Renee, "You both will find that there isn't a single person in this base who hasn't been informed of your arrival and your purpose here. If you have any questions, you can feel free to ask anyone."

"Yes, sir," Renee and John replied curtly at the same time.

"I'm General Hayes," the grey-haired General closest to Lord Hood introduced himself to them, "And beside me is General Jackson. That's Captain McPhee, and Lieutenant Lyons. We will all aid you in preparing for the mission ahead – and I must say we are all happy to finally meet you in person, John. And you too, Miss Kilburn."

"Thank you, sir," They both said in unison.

"You are to be reinstated immediately," Hayes declared to John, gesturing out towards him, "Please, come with us."

John nodded, and followed General Hayes, General Jackson, and the Captain towards the building. Renee looked after him, staying put – feeling awkward without him. She looked to Lord Hood for an answer – but Lieutenant Lyons spoke first.

"Don't look so worried, Miss Kilburn," he said, giving her a little smile. She watched as Lord Hood waited a moment before deciding to follow after John and the others. Lyons was fairly young, in his mid thirties perhaps, with buzzed blonde hair and brown eyes, "You're coming with me."

"Yes, sir," she replied softly.

"You don't have to call me sir yet," Lyons said cheerfully, "As you have yet to be reinstated."

"Oh," Renee answered, feeling stupid. She looked down to the tarmac for a moment, and then ahead of her – watching as John and the others entered the building. For a moment, she wished John would look back at her, but he didn't. It was Spartan John now, her John wasn't present.

"So, let's see how much I can remember about you," Lyons chewed on his lip for a moment, "I read your file only this morning. You were a Corporal, fought in numerous battles from 2533 to 35 – including the battle of Hydra, during which you were critically injured and later suffered a head trauma..."

"You remember well," Renee answered.

"I'm guessing you're aware that unlike John, you can't be reinstated today," he explained.

"Yes."

"I can tell by just looking at you that you aren't physically able to qualify as a marine." Lyons held the door open for her, but Renee paused for a moment before continuing. Luckily, Lyons continued with his words, "But, that's our goal – to make you into what you used to be, if not better – in just a time-span of two weeks. That means you will have to really apply yourself."

"I'm aware," She said as he led her down the hallway.

"The training instructors will have no mercy," Lyons tried to sound hopeful, "They will not stop until you are able to complete three pull ups, forty sit ups in two minutes and you are able to run three miles in or under 28 minutes." He paused for a moment, "Sound familiar?"

"Yes," Renee made a face, "Very familiar."

"Good," Lyons answered, "Today, you will have it easy. First you are to report to have your hair cut to the standard thirteen centimetres or less. From there you will be assigned room and your uniforms, standard, battle, and dress. Then you will be introduced to your drill instructor, do a little warm up, then have a good dinner, spend the rest of the evening shining your shoes until they are spotless. You will also try cleaning, disassembling and reassembling your assault rifle. If you complete these tasks with time to spare, you can have a five minute shower, and then get a good night's rest. They'll have you up at 500 hours sharp for a full day of training. You will first begin with a good hour of drill. Then the three mile run, where you will be timed and no doubt be ridiculed on your result. You will spend the rest of your day with your drill instructor – aside from the half hour lunch break, the hour break for dinner, the hour for cleaning your boots and weapon – and the hour to do as you please – this includes showering. This will be your schedule, unless otherwise specified, for the next two weeks of your life. Am I understood?"

"Yes, Lieutenant," was all she could manage.

"We will make you into the marine you used to be, Kilburn. Don't worry about that."

---

John was immediately given his temporary room at the base. It was located in the officer's quarters – and was standard issue of a room. Nothing fancy – a simple bed, bedside table, locker, mirror, a metal desk, an uncomfortable looking chair, and one small window. His suitcase had been dropped off and was set by the foot of the neatly made bed. On the bed, lay his equally neat dress uniform and standard uniform, folded to precision and pressed. Glancing back to Lord Hood, the two Generals and the Captain as he almost cautiously entered the room, he felt an immediate wave of déjà vu.

"You are to get dressed in your dress uniform," Lord Hood instructed, "And report to the auditorium in ten minutes for your immediate reinstatement."

"Yes, sir," John replied almost robotically, giving him and the others a sharp salute. He waited for them to leave before he moved. Taking several steps towards the bed, he reached out and touched the uniform. He knew just by the weathered feel of it that it was his old uniform – they hadn't replaced it. The chest-full of medals were still there, displaying every award except for the POW medal. John ran his fingers over the different coloured medals, pins and ribbons, experiencing instant nostalgia.

Although he'd never shown off his medals, or went about with the air that he was proud of them, John felt a certain sense of accomplishment. There had been no challenge receiving these medals, he'd simply followed orders and did what it was necessary to survive and keep his team alive.

John proceeded to get out of his civilian clothes and into his uniform. As he folded and set aside his simple t-shirt and pants, as well as the sneakers, John felt awkward to be back in the uniform. It was stiff, the last time he wore it had been August 2552, a full year ago, he realized. Taking a deep breath, he paused to look at his appearance in the full-length mirror.

He looked admirable, although awkward in the uniform. His broad chest and shoulders, as well as his large biceps, made him look as if he moved the wrong way he would rip right out of it. His hair was a little longer than he was used to, probably a little bit over the 3 cm limit. John's face wasn't as white as it had been – it was still pale, but had more of a tanned hue to it, but the dark circles beneath his eyes hadn't lifted, nor had the severe appearance of the scars on his face and neck.

Narrowing his eyes and delivering himself a stern glare, John turned his back on the mirror. He'd never liked them. Without another moment's pause, he left the room, headed for the auditorium. His pace was quick, so he arrived there in less than a minute. He didn't hesitate to walk in.

John saw Lord Hood standing at the podium just like he had when John had resigned. There were fewer people here to watch this time, however, but they all stood up the moment John entered the room. He felt all the eyes on him, but exhaled unnoticeably, focusing on what he had to do.

He stopped in front of the podium, turned sharply, struck a salute before standing at attention. John's voice rung out throughout the room.

"Lord Hood, sir!"

Lord Hood gave him a little nod. There was a moment's silence before he spoke.

"John, as of today, you are to be reinstated in the United Nations Space Command – and retake your rank of Master Chief Petty Officer 117," Lord Hood's voice was flawless, his face composed. He walked around the podium to stand in front of John – and he held out the rank, handing it to John, "Welcome back."

John stared at his rank in his palm for a moment. For a while, he never thought he would see it again, for a while, he had no desire to ever see it again. But now, here he was. Snapping out of his brief daze, John saluted him again.

"Sir, thank you, sir!" he barked.

There was a gentle applause from the men behind him, but John found himself battling his facial expressions, for he wasn't sure how to feel. His expression hardened. _Remember why you're here_, he told himself, _You're here for Kelly. And the others, if they're alive. You're doing this for them – they're your responsibility. You're going to bring whoever's alive back alive. No room for failure._

---

Renee, with her armful of uniforms – three pairs of boots balanced precariously on top, struggled her way down one of the many hallways of the base – trying her best to follow Lieutenant Lyons as he led her to what was going to be her room for the next two weeks. She had to keep back from complaining – she had to struggle not trip over her own feet or run into a wall by mistake. Her head was awkwardly craned around the stack of uniforms in her arms. The load was heavy – and she knew that Lyons was well aware of her struggling, but he made no move to try and lighten her burden. Sometimes she couldn't hold back a frustrated sigh or two.

Her hair was still damp from getting it cut – and pieces of hair had fallen down the back of her tank top and were horribly itchy. She hadn't been able to see her hair yet, for the barber – you couldn't quite call him a hairdresser – didn't need a mirror. He hadn't asked her if she had any preferences, he'd greeted her with a mere grunt and proceeded to snip off her hair with Lyons looking on. Renee could tell just by the lightness of her head and the breeze on her neck that it was short, incredibly short. The only thing she could see was her bangs, which were choppily done. She dreaded to see the rest of it.

Renee, peeking around the uniform, watched Lyons as he continued down the hallway in front of her – and was somewhat relieved when she saw him stop at a door and turn around to wait for her, folding his arms behind her back. In her sudden excitement of having reached her room and to set down this load and be able to look in a mirror – Renee felt herself trip over her own feet.

With a little cry, she knew she was going to fall. True enough, she hit the ground, landing heavily on her elbow and hip. Trying to keep a hold of her armful was unsuccessful – and she watched in dismay as her uniforms and boots sprawled out all around her.

Letting out a groan, she looked up to Lieutenant Lyons, who had a mix between a look of annoyance and a look of pity on his face.

"Sorry, sir," she muttered in embarrassment, hurrying to gather up her things off the floor.

\ "You're going to need more training than I thought," Lyons muttered, "A couple of days walking on the balance beam would do you good."

"I'm terribly clumsy," she prattled nervously, managing to get her things into her arms. Halfway to her feet, her dress shoes tumbled off and landed with two thumps on the floor. She sighed – and went to go get them, but Lyons got them for her, looking irritated. Gesturing to the door, he declared dully:

"This is your room."

Renee was thankful for the automatic door. She walked in, and dumped her things on her bed. Lyons remained in the doorway, holding out the shoes. Sheepishly, she took the shoes and put them on the floor.

"I'm sorry," she apologized again.

"If your clumsiness is genetic, there's nothing you can do about it," Lyons said, grimacing at the mess of the uniforms tossed on her bed, "But, I know that disorganization is one thing that you can change."

"Yes, sir," Renee stammered, stopping herself from saying sorry again like an idiot.

"Get changed into standard issue uniform," Lyons ordered, "I'll be waiting outside."

She nodded – and he paused in the doorway, "Don't fall again."

"I'll try not to, sir."

Lyons left the room – and the first thing Renee did was rush to the little mirror that was on the wall. Instantly, her jaw dropped. Her hair was short – shorter than she'd imagined. It had longer layers at the top, and her bangs went to her eyebrows, but the back and sides were no longer than five centimetres.

It was just like it had been when she had first joined in 2533, only she didn't look eighteen anymore. In this light, she looked old. An old woman trying to pretend that she was young again, trying to think that she could actually make it as a marine.

Turning away from her reflection, Renee quickly got dressed into the uniform, and managed to not fall again. When she walked out of the room, Lyons was waiting across the hall, leaning against the wall calmly. He gave her one look, and remarked:

"You look like a marine, but _are _you a marine?"

Renee wasn't quite sure how to reply – was the question rhetorical? Or was he expecting an answer?

"I'm not a marine yet, sir," she answered.

"Good answer," Lyons started walking down the hallway, gesturing for her to follow, "And the key word in that is _yet_. And it's all up to you and how you push yourself. Whether you become a marine or not, it's your choice."

"But, what if I'm not physically able?" Renee questioned, "That's not something I can control."

"Anyone can be physically able," Lyons replied curtly, "If they will themselves to be. If you have two legs, two arms, a working brain with average intelligence and no diagnosed disabilities, you _are _physically able – it's just the mental part that some people have problems with. It's all up in your head, or most of it," Lyons tapped his temple, "They tell themselves right from the beginning that they are going to fail. So, they fail. But you need to tell yourself that you will do this. It's your goal, is it not?"

"Yes," Renee said after a moment, "I suppose it is."

"You suppose?" Lyons snapped, "Either it is or it's not – what is it?"

"It is my goal, sir."

"Good." Lyons took a deep breath, "We're now going to go outside into the training facilities. You'll meet your training and drill instructors – and show them what you are capable of. Your drill instructor will first run through basic drill with you and see how sharp you are. Count how many pushups you can do, count how many sit ups you can do, how many crunches, and if your able, one handed pushups. Then, they'll tell you to make your way through the obstacle course, you will be timed. You will have a try at target practice, you will be graded. Then, your instructor will determine what you need to improve on. My guess is that everything will need a little tuning up."

"Yes, sir." Renee answered. She found herself sounding like John. John, she wondered where he was.

She followed Lieutenant Lyons wordlessly outside and to the training facilities. The drill area was grass. When she caught her first glance at the drill instructor, she was somewhat surprised. The drill instructor was female, and shorter than she was. She had blond curly hair pulled back into a knot on the back of her neck – and was dressed sharply in a flawless uniform, and regarded Renee with muted curiosity as she watched her and Lyons approach.

"Lieutenant," she greeted Lyons with a little nod as they stopped in front of her. Then she looked to Renee, "This is my trainee?"

"Yes," Lyons answered, "Renee Kilburn. This is your drill sergeant, Miss Diana Bryce."

"Ma'am," Renee gave her a salute. Somehow, she felt out of place that she was taller than her. She kind of felt an urge to bend down a little.

"Sloppy!" Bryce remarked, her voice ringing out. Renee jumped in surprise. Bryce walked right up to her, invading her personal space like drill sergeants were known to do, "Trainee Kilburn, you are going to have to do a lot better than that to impress me. I've read your files; I know you're an ex-corporal. For someone who was once a corporal, that salute was pitiful!"

"Sorry, ma'am." Renee muttered.

"Don't try and apologize!" Bryce bellowed, "Straighten your posture, you're a woman. It's usually the guys that slouch. Square your shoulders, stick your chest out like you're proud – since you should be damn well proud! Proud that the UNSC decided to consider recruiting your pitiful ass!" Bryce paused, and Renee struggled with her facial features, trying not to take Bryce's words personally, "Now salute me again."

Renee did as she was told.

"Better," Bryce remarked with a scoff, "But nothing amazing. We'll work on that salute. Now, drop down and do as many pushups as you can, on my count. Go."

Renee once again obeyed, dropping to the grass. She straightened her body, and lowered herself down for the first push up. She heard Bryce count one. Her arms already burned. Another push up, and Bryce's count of two. Renee could feel her muscles burning. Bryce counted four. Five. Six...

Her arms gave out from beneath her and Renee got a face full of grass.

"Six?" Bryce shouted, "That's it?" She laughed, "Get up!"

Renee jumped to her feet, her arms aching. She wanted to rub them, but couldn't move, or Bryce would probably swat her. She found it difficult to make eye contact with her. Bryce grabbed one of her arms, and felt her way up and down her arm from her elbow to her shoulder.

"Bones, you're all bones!" Bryce exclaimed, "That might be a good thing for a beauty pageant, Trainee, but not here. Do you realize that I can do two hundred push ups nonstop?" It was a rhetorical question, "And when I'm done with you, you will be able to, too." She gestured to the ground with her head, "Now sit ups. Something tells me I won't be too impressed with this, either."

Renee, with humiliation, was only able to do nine. Once again, she received a tongue lashing from Bryce, exclaiming that she'd need to be able to do forty sit ups in two minutes if she even hoped to see her rank of corporal again.

"This is unbelievable!" Bryce was exclaiming once Renee had attempted and failed horribly at crunches. Renee was sitting on the ground, feeling rather defeated and humiliated. Bryce hadn't told her to stand, and anyway, she was quite comfortable down here, staring at the blades of grass and listening to Bryce yell at her.

"I'm not even going to ask you to try the one-handed push ups," Bryce said, sighing heavily, "I would if I wanted to maybe get a good laugh. You're going to be a challenge, Kilburn – and I'm well aware of your eighteen year long coma, but I'm not going to have any sympathy for you. It was your choice to come here, not anyone else's. Now get up, you're going to get to try the obstacle course." The smile on Bryce's face was discouraging as Renee got up sorely from the ground.

"Are your muscles aching?" Bryce caught on instantly.

"Yes, ma'am," Renee answered, hoping that Bryce would give her a break.

"Good. This is nothing compared to how you'll feel tomorrow," Bryce said simply, "Pain is sometimes necessary if you wish to succeed. And in your case, it's inevitable. You want to become a marine again? You'd better get used to how your feeling – and learn to deal with it. It's not going anywhere for a while."

---

"Okay," Bryce announced with her hands on her hips, "That's the obstacle course."

Renee stood wearily beside her. It had been a good mile's walk to reach it, and now her feet were sore in the boots. She could feel the beginning of blisters. As she stared at the gigantic maze of ropes, ladders, barbed wire, mud puddles, tires, pulleys, hills, tunnels and things of the like, she felt her heart sink.

"You're going to be timed," Bryce informed her, "As you've probably already been told. Now, your mission is relatively simple. Make your way through the obstacle course and ring the bell at the end. Got it, Trainee?"

"Yes, ma'am," Renee tried to make herself sound confident.

"Ready?" Bryce asked, looking down at her little timer, "On your mark, get set, go!"

Renee bolted forward, jumping over a set of barbed wire – she felt her body soaring through the air – then she was jerked back, and the ground came rushing up to meet her as the sound of ripping fabric tore through the air. She slammed into the ground, feeling a wrenching pain shoot through her leg. Her body was twisted awkwardly, but a quick glance over her shoulder saw that her pant leg had caught on the wire – and the little barbed hooks had dug into the skin of her leg.

"Don't stop!" Bryce shouted, "Get yourself out and keep going!"

Renee, clenching her teeth, reached to her belt pouch and drew out the pocket knife. Flipping it open, she sliced through the fabric of her pant leg, and with a jerk, pulled her leg away. She couldn't hold back a yell as she felt the barbs tear her skin.

Not looking back – she got to her feet, ignoring the pain that protested from her leg. Making her way successfully through the set of tires – despite the shooting pain that went up her leg with every step she made. She struggled to climb the rope netting that was draping down from a wooden platform. Getting to the top, she slipped a little, but pulled herself up.

She saw that, fifty feet across, there was another platform. And the only way to get to it was to walk along a rope bridge – that didn't look to be at all sturdy. Renee looked down, and saw all of this was over a giant mud puddle.

"Don't hesitate!" she heard Bryce screaming.

Renee looked back over her shoulder at Bryce – and her heart leaped. Standing beside her, was John. He was wearing his dress uniform, looking quite handsome. She felt immediate embarrassment that John was watching her do this, but at the same time, a shot of confidence to impress him. She could do this, she thought.

She took a couple of cautious steps onto the rope bridge – and almost fell. It swayed and sunk beneath her weight – and she grasped onto the two little rope "hand rails" to try and steady the bridge. Her body tensed up. She took a deep breath, and then made a mad dash for the other side. Half way across, she felt her foot slip – and she dropped like a dead weight. Letting out a scream, she saw the mud puddle approaching her in lightning speed, but suddenly, she was stopped – suspended upside down.

Struggling to look up at the bridge, she saw that her foot had caught in the rope – the same foot that she'd caught in the barbed wire. Feeling pressure in her temples as the blood began to go to her head, Renee struggled, trying to arch her body up so she could reach the rope and pull herself up. It didn't work. Her back ached, and didn't want to seem to let her do that.

She saw Bryce and John, standing not far away – not doing anything.

"Come on!" Bryce shouted.

Renee let out a frustrated moan, and then made a desperate lunge against gravity towards the bridge. When her hand grabbed it, relief shot through her. She struggled to pull herself up, and worm her way back between the ropes and untangle her foot. Cautiously, she got to her feet – and made sure not to rush her way across the bridge. When she made it to the other side – she was visibly limping. Her leg was killing her.

She climbed down a similar rope ladder to get off the platform, and now she had to crawl through a series of different sized tunnels. Knowing that time was ticking, Renee crawled quickly as she could, but not without hitting her head off the top of a tunnel a couple of times. The tunnels weren't easy themselves; they were filled with jagged pieces of gravel that jabbed into her hands and knees. The smaller ones weren't for a claustrophobic; Renee literally had to drag herself along on her stomach amongst all the rocks and dirt. Since the dirt was dry, it would go into the air as fine dust when disturbed – and it went into her eyes, nose and mouth.

When she crawled through the last tunnel, she emerged coughing – but knew she had to continue. She had to climb up another rope ladder – this one was taller and steeper, almost at a ninety degree angle. Renee's muscles ached, her leg was throbbing, and her lungs burned from the dust – but she made it to the top. This platform was connected to another by a single rope. That meant she had to crawl her away across using both legs and arms. Beneath the rope, was another puddle of mud.

Glancing back over her shoulder, seeing Bryce and John – Renee started across the rope, holding on for dear life. Her movements were clumsy and her fear of falling caused her to inch along slowly. She kept her eyes fixed on the rope and the sky, not daring to look down.

"Faster, come on!" she heard Bryce yell.

Renee, out of breath, felt her arms burning – but she could feel John's eyes on her, she could do this for him. She reached the platform with success, and felt her chest swell with pride, but she continued without a pause. Down another rope ladder – and out into a field filled with barbed wire, jagged sticks protruding from the ground, pits in the ground that could easily cause you to twist your ankle. She had to run, jump, tear and crawl her way through it. Her uniform caught and was ripped on the barbed wire that she had to jump through and crawl under; she tripped over the rocky terrain, skinned her hands. Her injured leg was throbbing, her muscles were on fire, she was bleeding from several scratches – but she could see it – the platform with the bell. She wasn't going to stop.

Out of the field, over to the platform, up to the top...

The sound of the bell ringing out through the air was one of the best sounds Renee had ever heard.

She waited until Bryce, along with John, came over to her.

"Four minutes and thirty two seconds," Bryce announced as Renee dropped down from the platform and limped her way over to her, "You're going to have to do much better than that – cut your time by at least half. How do you feel, Trainee?"

"Sore," Renee sighed deeply. Her mouth was dry. Water was extremely desirable at the moment.

"No wonder," Bryce remarked, "The Master Chief said that that was one of the most painful looking run-throughs of a obstacle course he's ever seen, and I have to agree with him."

Renee looked up to John – looking handsome yet stand-outish in his cleanly pressed white dress uniform. His many medals gleamed in the midday sun. She gave him a little smile – so he'd been reinstated.

"Master Chief, sir," she greeted him with a salute.

"Better," Bryce remarked.

"Trainee," John gave her a little nod of his head, keeping his voice sharp and his facial expressions controlled. He acted as if he didn't know her, and Renee found it slightly amusing. It felt special and somewhat naughty to share such a strong relationship with him and act like they didn't – it was almost a scandalous feeling. Once again, it was the Master Chief in love with a Corporal, although at this point, it was even worse – Master Chief in love with a _Trainee_, "Are you alright?"

Renee could tell by his voice that he was truly concerned about her but of course, he couldn't express it in front of Bryce.

"My leg's the worst, but I think I just pulled a few muscles, sir," She answered.

John nodded in understanding, but didn't ask her anything else.

"Although you didn't impress me much," Bryce told Renee, folding her arms on her chest, "You made it apparent that you tried your hardest. For that, I'm going to spare you the mile walk back to the main base." She gestured to a warthog parked not far away.

"Thank you, ma'am," Renee saluted her, and eagerly limped her way towards the vehicle.

---

When Renee got back to the base, Bryce said that she'd see her the next day bright and early – and instructed her to go to the infirmary before attempting to get dinner or take a shower. John quickly obliged that he'd accompany her, and for that Renee was thankful.

As they walked down the hallway together, Renee leaned heavily on John's arm. Now that she didn't have to act macho, she was fully aware of the pain in not just her leg, but all of her body. John was a firm support for her, and he walked slowly to make it easier.

"Are you sure you don't want me to carry you?" he asked her softly, reaching around and putting his hand around her back to help her uneasy balance, "It would be like the first day we met, do you remember?"

"How could I not?" Renee smiled up at him, "But, I think I can manage myself."

"Here," John said, guiding her off to the side of the hallway, to a comfortable looking couch, "Sit down, and let me have a look." He was all serious now as he pushed her down and dropped down to one knee to examine her leg. Cautiously rolling up the pant leg, he grimaced at the sight and shook his head, "You truly are a disaster waiting to happen. You don't know how hard it was for me to just stand there and watch you go through that obstacle course."

"How does it look?" Renee asked, trying to get the topic off her clumsiness and back to her leg.

"Not good," John pulled down her pant leg again and got to his feet. Having her right where he wanted her, he scooped her up into his arms.

"John..." she started to protest.

"Be quiet," he said, "That's an order, Trainee."

Renee couldn't help but smile, and she leaned her head against his shoulder.

"Just like the old days," she muttered.

"Even your hair," John remarked.

"Do you like it?" she looked up at him, adjusting her arms around his neck, "I don't."

"It looks nice," he replied calmly, "It's short, sure, but you could be bald and look absolutely wonderful."

"Liar," Renee spat, laying her head back against his shoulder again.

"Now, now," John tsked, grinning down at her, "You know I'm serious."

"Doesn't mean you're right."

"Don't argue with me," he ordered in a sharp voice, "Because I always win. One way or another."

"Well then, if we're on the topic of generously exchanging compliments, I think you look incredibly handsome in your dress uniform, Master Chief, sir," she smirked.

"Hm." He grunted.

Renee laughed out loud,

"You don't like it either, do you?" she quickly gave him kiss on the cheek, and saw faint traces of a smile come to John's lips.

---

When Renee got out of the infirmary, it wasn't without a diagnosis. Of course she hadn't been expecting one of the doctors to send her away with a "You'll be fine", but she had to receive three stitches in her leg from the barbed wire. As well, on the same leg, she'd twisted her ankle. It was swollen, so they'd bandaged an ice pack around it, then finally sent Renee on her way.

She wouldn't allow John to carry her – and insisted limping down the hallway without so much of his assistance. John was carrying one of her boots with the sock tucked inside, and he looked pained every time Renee took a step. The embarrassment of being injured had fuelled her to want to prove to herself that she was capable of doing something on her own. But, only if she could see herself, John thought. The pant leg on her injured leg was rolled up past her knee; her ankle was wrapped heavily with white bandages and bulged out from the ice pack underneath. There were a couple of inches of difference between her foot without the boot and the one with, so it made her gimp worse.

But Renee was clearly mad, and John didn't want to really protest that he could carry her.

"I could freak out right now," Renee announced – she'd given up on trying to walk normally and sort of dragged her injured leg along behind her, "Did you know that I fell earlier? In front of Lieutenant Lyons? They're going to start calling me Klutz Kilburn, just give 'em time."

"You really need to calm down," John told her.

"How am I supposed to shower with my leg all wrapped up like this?" Renee growled.

"Renee..." he started, but she cut him off.

"Don't say that you can carry me!" she said, "Just because you're a higher rank than me..."

"Do you want to fall flat on your face?" John questioned calmly, "That's what will happen if you continue... 'walking' like _that_."

She heaved a big sigh, and kept going.

"I know you'd catch me before I'd fall, I've got nothing to worry about."

"Listen," John came up behind her, and before Renee realized what he was doing, she was up in his arms, "I'm taking you back to your room. Walking on that leg will only aggravate it and make the swelling worse."

"Ohhh!" Renee groaned, but she didn't protest, "Sometimes I wish I was fat and weighed 1000 pounds."

"No you don't," John made a face, "I could still pick you up."

"Wait, aren't we meant to go to dinner?" Renee asked, "I'm starving."

"They'll allow room service for the injured," John answered her, "I'll go get you dinner and bring it back and we can eat in private."

Renee sighed, yet nodded.

"What a first day," she said, "I'm sore; I twisted my ankle, tore my leg open, and fell countless times. Not to mention Bryce is absolutely disappointed with me..."

"No she's not," John answered, "You couldn't hear what she was saying when she _wasn't_ yelling at you. She admires your persistence to go on."

"Maybe that's my true fault," she thought aloud, "Most people would stop after they fell over barbed wire and nearly broke their leg by almost falling off a rope bridge."

"Keep in mind, that obstacle course is based on a real life situation. If you tore your leg open and almost fell off a bridge, and you had the enemy after you, you wouldn't stop. Unless you wanted to be a coward and have them end your suffering, which in most cases they'd have no problem in doing."

They arrived back at Renee's room – and she was amazed that John knew what one was hers.

"How do you know?" she asked as he opened the door and walked towards the bed.

"It's not that hard to find out," John replied as he laid her down. Sitting down on the edge of the bed, he gave her a little smile, "I'll go get our food. Anything specific you'd like?"

Renee shook her head.

"Nah, I'd eat a horse at this point," she smiled.

John made a face and chuckled.

"Ok," he patted her hand, "I'll be back."

---

John returned not ten minutes later with two plates of food, one of them was heaping. Renee was sort of surprised when John handed her the plate with the most on it.

"All of this is for me?" she asked as she set the plate on her lap and took a fork and a knife from him.

"You said you could eat a horse," John gave her a little smile; "I asked them if they had one, but they said they only had horse-sized portions."

"You made a joke," Renee laughed, "That's not really like you." She remembered to add, "Sir."

"I'm in a good mood, I suppose," John said, sitting down on the edge of the bed, careful not to bump her injured leg. He stabbed at his meal – which was steak, potatoes and vegetables. Renee watched him, as he carelessly mixed it all together, stirring the vegetables in amongst the potatoes and picking up the steak and setting it on top of it all. Only then did he begin to saw at the steak.

"You're hungry too?" Renee asked with a full mouth.

"Mhm," John nodded, "You didn't hear my stomach growling?"

"No," she shook her head with a smirk.

"So, how do you feel?" John asked after a moment.

"Sore."

"No, I mean, how do you feel about being here?"

"I don't know, really," Renee answered, "I guess, it'll have to take a bit of getting used to. In a way, it feels right, but in another way, it doesn't. I don't know how many times I've asked myself 'What am I doing here' in the last few hours alone." She looked at him thoughtfully, "How about you, Master Chief?"

"This uniform is stiff," he remarked, "But, other than that, I haven't really felt any different yet. They're still repairing my armor for use. Only when I'm back in that will I feel truly back to my old self."

"Oh." Renee answered. Old self, what did he mean by that? It could be taken in one of two ways, but she didn't want to dare ask.

They ate for a while in silence, and then Renee was surprised that it was John who spoke to rekindle the conversation.

"You'll be saved from an hour or so of training tomorrow," he said, "I spoke to Lord Hood, we're going to have a meeting tomorrow about the organization of the mission. All personnel involved. He's working on getting the best of the best soldiers to be here tomorrow morning."

"Do you know who he's choosing?" Renee asked.

"Not yet," John shook his head, "But I trust Lord Hood to make good decisions. He wouldn't put me with a team of guys that weren't capable of what's going to be necessary."

"Do we even know what's necessary?"

"Generally speaking," he shrugged, "Details will be sorted out over the next two weeks. Already they're getting a ship ready for us."

"Any more messages from Kelly?"

"No," John shook his head.

Renee nodded, seeing that bringing her up immediately changed John's mood. It bothered him, she realized, so she decided to lay off the questions about the mission. In fact, she didn't say any more and neither did John. They finished their meals in silence, just around the same time, too.

"I can take your plate," John broke the silence, and Renee handed the plate to him. Instead of taking them back to the mess, he just went over and set them on the small table. That meant he wasn't in any rush.

"Now, what's next on the agenda of a Trainee," he looked thoughtful, "Have you organized your locker?"

"No," Renee shook her head.

"Well, considering your leg, they'd probably sympathize if you don't get it done tonight," John said, "But, you can clean your weapon."

"It's already cleaned," Renee sighed, "And I remember how to do it. I can take it apart and put it back together no problem."

"Then, sleep?" John questioned.

"No! I'm not tired," Renee replied.

"But you need sleep, remember," John came over to her, sitting down on the bed again, only this time closer to her, "They'll have you up at a cruel time tomorrow morning – even before I get up."

Renee didn't say anything, she found herself staring into John's deep brown eyes. She was tired, but something about John in his dress uniform fuelled a fire within her. She wanted him, she realized – and remembered what Amy had preached before they had left.

"Lock the door," Renee whispered to him. John's eyes narrowed.

"What?" he said, although she knew full well he'd heard her.

"Lock the door, John," she repeated. Her voice came out soft – but it was a tone that John would understand. He did. She watched his facial expression change – go from confused to surprised, then to slightly amused. The little smirk that came onto his lips was truly amazing.

He got up wordlessly from the bed, locked the door, and then he was back to her side, only this time he was over her, careful not to touch her leg. Their lips met and the kiss was very innocent at first. Renee's hands slid up his chest, along his medals, then up to the top button of his uniform. She began undoing them quickly. John's arms encircled her, their faces lingering inches apart – both of them looking down to the buttons, holding their breath. When Renee undid the last one, John snapped into action. Shirt came off and landed somewhere on the floor. Their lips met again in hasty assurance, Renee's arms went around his neck. His hands slid beneath her shirt. John's tongue had no boundaries – it was like before, when they first had experimented. Renee's shirt soon joined John's on the floor. Their pants were next, John was careful not to bump her leg as he found his way between her thighs.

In the few lazy seconds before anything happened, Renee whispered in John's ear.

"Be gentle with me, Master Chief."

And then, nothing but pure bliss.

---

**A/N: **Now how's that for a Christmas present? Merry Christmas and happy holidays, everyone. Hope you enjoy. - AB


	13. Pedal to the Metal

**Chapter 13 – Pedal to the Metal**

** August 22****nd****, 2553 **

Renee awoke to a loud pounding on her door. It snapped her out of a sound sleep, the continuous metal clunking sound. Her room was dark and peaceful, but not when that goddamned noise was filling it. She let out a groan, rolling over to face the wall. It couldn't be 500 hours _yet_. It felt like she had just fallen asleep.

"Kilburn!" she heard Bryce's obnoxious voice, "You've got one minute to get ready and meet me out here with the best salute you got, or I'll come in there and flip your mattress, you hear me, Trainee?"

Renee sighed deeply, fully opening her eyes. Counting to three, she shot out of bed. The moment she stood up, she realized how _sore _she was. Her ankle immediately burst into a burning protest, her stitches felt like they were pulling, and all her muscles felt like they'd been stretched beyond ability. It was worse than last night.

Last night... her mind wandered, and she forgot all about everything else. John had been extremely cautious with her, yet at the same time they'd both made sure that they fulfilled their desire for each other. He couldn't have been the cause of this pain, she knew. It was that obstacle course.

Once she and John had finished, he got dressed and quickly left without so much as a few words. It had kind of left her feeling like it had been sympathy sex – but no, it couldn't have been. If it was one thing Renee had gotten used to, it was how John fell into this mesmerized state. He wouldn't forget about her, though, it was quite the opposite. John's signature trait, although she'd been very uncomfortable with it at first, was keeping eye contact. He had such a piercing gaze, and it didn't take her very long to realize how damn _sexy _that was. John probably didn't even mean for it to be, it was probably where he found his comfort, by making eye contact with her.

Renee snapped from her thoughts, realizing time was ticking. She was standing in the middle of her room, with just a tank top and underwear on. Her uniform was still on the floor where it'd been discarded. She definitely didn't want Bryce to come in and see her in that state.

She picked her shirt up off the floor and shrugged it on, forgetting about buttoning it for the time being. Throwing her dog tags around her neck, Renee swiped her pants up and went over to the bed to put them on. She wasn't going to try her luck with standing on one leg. As she got them on, she got a better look at her ankle. The ice packs had long since melted, but even despite them, she could see it wasn't as swollen as it had been. Quickly, she took the ice packs off and rewrapped the bandage around her ankle. She was just going to get her boots when the door opened, and Bryce shot into the room, looking ready to do some mattress-flipping, but when she saw Renee wasn't asleep, she stopped and simply folded her arms and looked down to her.

"Did you day-dream or what?" Bryce snapped, "A minute is more than enough time to get dressed, Trainee."

"I guess you could say I did, ma'am," Renee wasn't going to lie as she pulled on one boot over the foot that wasn't sore.

"What did they do for your leg?" Bryce asked, walking around to get a better view, "Oh. See, I told you it was nothing serious, Trainee. How do you feel this morning?"

"Tired," Renee answered, cautiously picking up the other boot and slipping her injured foot inside, "And," she winced, "Sore, ma'am."

"Looks like you had a restless sleep," the instructor made a face, "You're hair is sticking up straight. Did you get in a fight with your pillow, or what, Trainee?"

Renee tried desperately to keep a poker face, knowing her hair was betraying her. It probably was the definition of sex hair.

"I couldn't get comfortable, ma'am," she answered quickly, feeling her cheeks growing hot.

"Hm." Bryce studied her for a moment, "You should know well enough by now that this isn't a five star hotel, Kilburn."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Didn't get much accomplished last night, did you?" Bryce asked.

"Got my uniforms put away," she shrugged, "And I was going to clean my assault rifle, but I didn't have the right tools and didn't want to walk to the armory to get them. I hardly know my way around as it is, and my leg..."

"Okay," said Bryce, looking somewhat sympathetic, "I didn't expect you to hurt yourself in the way you did. But today, we're putting the pedal to the metal, right Trainee? We're already behind schedule, hurry up, fix yourself. First things first, a nice morning run. Then breakfast."

Renee grimaced, but hurried to button up her shirt and get to her feet, patting down her hair. She still wasn't used to it being this short. The only thing good about it was that it was easier to keep in check – and even then, it proved to be rebellious. She and John hadn't done that much to have messed it up, she thought. But then, remembered, at some point John had grabbed a handful of her hair... just as the two of them were nearing....

"Wake up!" Bryce shouted, snapping her out of her daze, "Jesus, Trainee. I haven't seen someone as bad as you in a while."

"Sorry ma'am," Renee answered, trying to hide the blush that was once again coming to her cheeks, "I'm just not used to this, that's all."

"No kidding!" was her remark.

--

John woke up at 0600 hours, right on the mark. And he hadn't even set an alarm. So, he mused, as he sat up and forced himself out of his sleepy state, his body still hadn't forgotten the old wake up time. The first thing he thought of was when he saw the time was what Renee would be doing. She had been forced out of bed an hour or more ago, and he guessed that she would be in the middle of attempting the morning run in full gear.

Attempting was almost too generous of a word, he decided. He knew she would be desperately struggling her way along, having the instructor Bryce yelling in her ear every few minutes – and just the thought of that, sympathy was felt for her.

He wondered momentarily as he got to his feet, why did she even do this. Why did she even come here? Was it for him? It was for him, all for him. It was too much, it wasn't necessary. But as well, it was too late. She couldn't turn back now. Her hair was cut, her uniform assigned and training had begun.

John sheepishly allowed his thoughts to wander back to the previous night. He felt better now that they'd shared that time together, more relaxed. At the same time however, he felt like he had done something wrong. It was guilt that panged him along with the slight embarrassment. It's not like they were at home in the confines of their own bedroom – or in some cases, the living room floor – they were back, technically, at work.

With his rank freshly reassigned to him, John knew that generally, it was no way for someone of his seniority to behave. Especially after all he'd been through and how everyone looked up to him. What would Lord Hood think if he found out that he'd gone to Renee's room, and allowed himself to behave like a hormonally charged teenage boy, instead of a hardened veteran of forty-one –or was it forty-two? John didn't know for sure.

Middle aged, although not yet considered "old", most men his age would be settled down and have general control of their desires – and not be off sneaking in love making sessions while off duty. Perhaps, John thought, Amy's advice wasn't the best this time.

But you enjoyed it, a voice in his head muttered rebelliously.

John clenched his hands into fists, sighing deeply. He wasn't sure what was right, and he didn't have Dr. Halsey to go running off to and ask this time. This time, it was different. This time he couldn't allow himself to be ruled by his love for Renee. He loved her, yes, but he had a mission to do. The UNSC had reinstated him for a reason, they needed him and they needed the Master Chief that they'd known for the past thirty some years, not the one that had emerged within the last month. That was the civilian John. They wanted the enlisted John. They were two different men entirely.

Grabbing a fresh, standard-issue uniform from his locker along with his little bag of toiletries, John went off to the showers. He hadn't bothered to take one last night. He'd intended to, after coming back sweat-ridden and smelling of sex – but the moment he hit the bed, he was out like a light – just about as quickly as flipping off a switch.

This would be interesting, he mused as he left the room carrying his needed things. It had been a while since he'd taken a shower in any other place but Renee's home. The last time he had a shower here, it hadn't been the best. The shower stalls were cramped – they hadn't been built with men of John's size in mind. And of course, time was limited, although the showers weren't like on the ships where they would shut off after roughly five minutes. A sign simply read outside, "_Due to the number of personnel that use these facilities, please limit your showers to ten minutes at the most._"

Not that it was much of an improvement; at least you wouldn't have the water shut off on you when you were still washing.

John made his shower quick, well under the limit. During that time, he'd succeeded in hitting his elbows and shoulders against the side of the stall several times. Although of course, it didn't hurt him, it annoyed him. He felt his anger spiking, knowing that this was due to the fact he hadn't taken his pills yet this morning.

He walked out of the shower naked, quickly crossing over to grab a towel to wrap around his waist. Fishing through his bag he'd brought with him, he found his pills. John tossed one down his throat, and exhaled deeply. That's when, from behind him, he heard a female voice. For a moment, he was thrilled, thinking it was Renee, but he realized the voice wasn't at all familiar.

"I haven't seen you here before," was the remark.

John turned around to see a woman, probably in her late twenties or early thirties, dressed in standard issue uniform. She was tall, easily over six feet, slender yet muscular at the same time. Wavy blond hair came to her shoulders. Her face was almost square, with a strong jaw, small pursed lips and a straight nose. The most noticeable feature was her eyes. They were a piercing electric blue.

"I arrived yesterday," John replied curtly, taking in this new stranger. She seemed very composed, despite with him standing there in just a towel. He watched her, almost uncomfortably, as she looked him up and down. Walking closer to him, she continued to say nothing. John wasn't sure what to do, as she circled him like a predator would their prey.

Finally stopping in front of him, with her bright eyes narrowed, she met his eyes.

"You're a Spartan II," She observed. Her face was still rather emotionless.

John felt like he was looking into a mirror, the only other people he knew that could keep such a straight face was another Spartan. He wracked his brain, but her face wasn't familiar. She wasn't one of his Spartans – but there was no way she was just a normal marine.

"Master Chief John-117," she said after a moment, her voice smooth. Her hand shot out quickly – faster than that of a normal human's – in a request for a hand shake, "Pleased to meet you, sir."

John slowly reached out and shook her hand.

"I'm Petty Officer Elsie G153, last known survivor of Team Alpha, Gamma Company," Her voice was all business, "Spartan III."

A Spartan III. John had heard about them, but had never met one in the flesh. It was said they were meant to be more 'disposable' than Spartan II's, with less efficient armor, simply because it was less expensive than MJOLNIR. The III's were commonly sent on suicide missions, with casualty rates usually above the fifty percent mark.

For a moment, he wasn't sure quite what to say to her. Technically, she was a stranger, but at the same time, she was like him in the fact that she was a Spartan, so he felt an immediate comfort. John was becoming more aware, however, that he was getting chilled standing here in just a towel. And Elsie wasn't even fazed that it might be bothering him their first meeting to be when he was almost naked.

"My apologies, sir, for our first introduction being awkward for you," Elsie stepped back, "I'll allow you to get dressed."

John still didn't say anything, but scooped up his uniform and headed into the nearest stall. While he got dressed, his mind was wracking with questions. Was it because he hadn't seen a Spartan in a while, or did she seem almost robotic, with an expression of stone?

When he emerged, Elsie was waiting for him, with her arms folded behind her back and her face basically expressionless.

"Why are you here?" John questioned, "Here at the base, I mean?"

"Same reason you are," Elsie's eyes seemed to portray a flicker of emotion, "The mission to retrieve the survivors in the Zeta Doradus system."

"Survivors?" John noted the plural, "There is more than one?"

"Not confirmed," Elsie answered, "But I believe there are more survivors than your Spartan-087. There was several Spartan III's present in the area around Onyx just before the planet was destroyed, and I have faith that at least some of them survived and are safe – in the same place as your Spartan-087. Where ever this said place is located."

"Onyx?" John questioned.

"Yes, don't you know?" she seemed surprised; "My Spartan III's were on a mission on Onyx. I was told that there were also four Spartan II's present – and a civilian. A doctor."

"When did you hear this news?" he demanded, feeling his hopes rise.

"Almost a year ago," Elsie frowned, "I'm sorry to disappoint. There's been nothing recent but that message received from your Spartan."

"You say that Onyx was destroyed?"

"Yes," she replied matter-of-factly, "But that is all I know. I don't know why, how, or when – or who survived. But," she sighed, "I am somewhat enlightened. Although we are not from the same programs, we are Spartans. For a while, I thought I was alone."

"Me too," John answered quietly.

"I look forward to serving with you on this mission, John." Elsie reached out and placed a hand on his shoulder, and her lips formed a tiny smile, "May I call you John?"

He nodded.

"And you can call me Elsie," she told him, stepping back, "Are you aware of the meeting that is taking place today, about the mission?"

"Yes."

"Well, I will see you then, if not before."

"Yes," John nodded curtly. He took his bag of toiletries and left, feeling Elsie's eyes on his back. As he headed back to his room to drop his things off, John found himself almost nervous by the way Elsie regarded him. She hadn't thought she was better because she was a Spartan III, in fact she seemed to act quite opposite. Her respect had been overflowing – yet she didn't hold back on her curiosity. The way she'd looked at him at every angle, observing him as if he wasn't human. John could sense that she was interested in him as an individual, curious, and bold about it.

Her eyes seemed to aid her intense appearance. There was something definitely different about her. Or had he just been away from other Spartans for too long?

---

It was a rather sore sight to see Renee returning from the morning run. She was limping along painfully, almost dragging her injured foot behind her. Her face was flushed and shining with sweat. Her hair was plastered to her forehead, her expression portraying nothing but pain and fatigue. Heaving in each breath, she looked as if she was about to cry.

And, there was Bryce, walking along beside her, looking as healthy as a horse. Having run alongside Renee, she too, was sweaty, her nose slightly sunburned. But she looked calm, with a pair of aviator sunglasses resting on her rounded nose.

"Come on," Bryce egged her on, "We're almost there. Just a few more steps to go, and you can have breakfast."

Renee felt like she was going to black out. Her mouth was dry, her lungs and muscles burning at equal intensity. Her leg was killing her – but beyond it all, she felt a slight feeling of accomplishment. She tried to form her mouth into a smile but was too focused on getting her breath. They were indeed steps away from the main entrance into the base.

"I'm going to faint," she gasped.

"No you're not!" Bryce shouted, "Listen to me, and listen to me well. You _aren't _going to faint, Trainee."

Renee reached the front steps of the building, and let her legs fall out from underneath her. But her consciousness stayed. She just dropped to the steps, and laid her cheek against the concrete, allowing her eyes to close. It was peace. She did it.

Her peace was quickly disrupted, as she heard "Oh, no you don't!" come from Bryce, then she felt her strong grip on her arm as she hauled her to her feet, "You're walking the rest of the way to the cafeteria, Trainee."

Bryce allowed Renee to lean on her for support, as she forced one foot in front of the other as they walked into the building. Renee watched as the woman at the front desk looked concerned, ready to jump up from her chair to offer help. But Bryce shook her head, grinning slightly, "New Trainee, that's all."

"Oh," the woman answered, looking more relaxed, but she kindly offered, "Could I get the girl some water?"

"Yes!" Renee gasped, "Please!"

The woman got up, and went over to the water dispenser, and filled one of those paper cups to the brim. Renee's hands were out for it long before the woman was close.

"Thank you," she sighed, her hands shaking as she took the cup, "You're a godsend, truly."

Renee upended the cup. The cold water running down her parched throat was like a miracle. The woman smiled uneasily at Bryce, who nodded a thank you as well.

"Glad to be of help," the woman said, looking sympathetic and almost pained for Renee, as she walked around to back to her desk.

"This ain't over yet, Trainee," Bryce said to Renee, who was still panting heavily, "We gotta walk to the cafeteria. Then, you can sit down."  
---

John, in the hustle and bustle of the cafeteria, was able to find a table all to himself, and he sat down with his breakfast, which was eggs, sausage and hash browns. It smelled good, and after he took his first forkful, John confirmed it tasted good, too.

Not as good as Renee's cooking, though, he noted mentally. If it was one thing she wasn't clumsy at, it was cooking. In the few Sundays that they'd spent together at home, Renee had always made a point to make a big breakfast for the two of them.

He thought of Renee, and wondered what she was doing right now. She should probably be finishing up her run, he thought. That's when he heard a voice from behind him. For a moment, he thought it was Renee.

"Can I join you?"

John looked over his shoulder, not to see Renee, but Elsie.

"Oh," John said, "Yes, of course."

"Spartans should stick together," She replied, sitting down across from him, with a plate as full as his. Making eye contact with him, she gave him a little smile. John returned it. She was quiet for a moment, looking around the room with her lively eyes, until finally she set them back on him again. Picking up her fork and twirling it in her fingers, she continued, "You're like me, John. I pick a table all to myself, too, if it's available. You like to be alone."

"Not always," John answered, shrugging slightly.

"You looked disappointed when you saw me," Elsie observed, "Are you waiting for someone else?" There was no fooling her.

"Well," he replied, "I am, but I'm not sure if she'll be joining me. I didn't mean to look disappointed, Elsie. It's just that it wasn't you I was expecting."

"Who were you expecting, if I may ask?" Elsie looked interested.

"John!" he heard the melodic voice he'd been waiting for. However, it sounded hoarse. John whipped around, and saw Renee limping towards him, carrying her tray. He was thrown off by her appearance, with her sweat-soaked hair and sun burned face. So, they had made her run after all.

"Oh god," she breathed, almost collapsing into the seat beside him, "That run was horrible, absolutely horrible."

John glanced from Renee to Elsie. He saw her expression had immediately changed. She was staring at Renee in the same, piercing way she'd done to him when she first saw him, although she didn't look as friendly.

"Human," Elsie declared, her voice smooth.

Renee looked to her, noticing her for the first time. She looked confused.

"Excuse me?"

Elsie looked to John.

"This is who you were waiting for?" she asked, her face close to being expressionless. She looked from John, back to Renee again, then back to him. Renee didn't say anything; she was studying Elsie with confusion.

"Yes," John answered, and he was going to introduce her, but she beat him to the punch.

"Renee Kilburn," Renee smiled slightly, "Ex-corporal." She extended her hand for Elsie to shake, but Elsie didn't even look at her hand.

"Petty Officer Elsie G153, of Team Alpha, Gamma Company," She said plainly, "Spartan III."

Renee lowered her hand after the handshake was rejected, but she continued to be polite.

"A Spartan III?" Renee sounded interested, glancing to John then back to Elsie, "I thought there were only Spartan II's."

"No," Elsie answered in the same flat tone, "How are you acquainted with John?"

John felt tenseness in the air between the two.

"We've known each other years," Renee replied, "Since 2535. How about you?"

"John and I became acquainted just this morning," Elsie glanced to him, "I have found out that we are both assigned on the same mission."

"Me too," she smiled, but she could sense Elsie wasn't trying to be friendly.

"She's in training to rebuild her strength and stamina, so she can be reinstated as Corporal," John filled Elsie in quickly, "to be able to participate in the mission."

"I wasn't aware there were going to be marines involved." Elsie asked, "I haven't worked with many, but with the few I have, they got in my way."

John glanced to Renee, and saw her expression darken ever so slightly. It probably wasn't noticeable to Elsie, but since he'd known her for a long time, John had studied her features and different movements and arrangements of her face. He knew what almost every one meant. Renee wiped her sweat-soaked hair from her forehead, causing her short bangs to stick up, and directed her attention down to her plate. She began to eat without a word, ignoring both him and Elsie.

"They can't expect just two of us to be able to complete the mission," John answered, remaining calm, "And until this morning, I thought I was the only Spartan. I know I would prefer help from the marines. Providing they're experienced. Lord Hood, I assumed you've met him..."

"Not yet," Elsie interrupted, "I just arrived this morning from the UNSC base in Africa – near Mombasa."

"Well, you can count on his decisions to be the best. He won't go pairing us with anyone he thinks unsuitable or incapable for the mission."

Elsie nodded, and John watched her turn her attentions back to Renee, who was still looking down.

"You said you were an ex-corporal," she said, "How is that so?"

Renee met Elsie's eyes.

"I was shot in 2535, in the battle of Hydra. I was discharged when I became comatose – I remained in that state for eighteen years."

"That's a long time," Elsie looked thoughtful, "Yet, you're rejoining? To participate in a mission that has nothing to do with you?"

At first, John thought that Elsie meant her words to be hurtful. But he soon realized, with much surprised, she was actually in a state of awe. Elsie paused for a moment before continuing.

"I mean, you're a marine," She flipped her fork in her fingers, "We're Spartans. Why do you give a damn about us? Most of your kind fear us, or think we're robots, cyborgs, freaks. Yet, you're rejoining the UNSC, going through training all over again, just so that you can come with us and help us bring back our fellow Spartans that may be alive?"

Renee nodded ever so slowly, not sure what to exactly do. The only interaction she had with other Spartans beside John was when she briefly met Kelly and James. James had acted indifferent about her, but Kelly was cruel, and hated the idea of Spartans associating with marines. She had almost pitted her and John against one another. This Elsie, she was much like John in the fact that you couldn't get much from her expressions if she didn't want you to, but her voice wasn't as expressionless as it had been initially.

"I hate marines," Elsie's expression darkened, "I always did. For the shit they'd say about us. Spartan II's, like John, they got the worst of it – because we III's weren't often around them. But you," a small smile came onto her face, "You're different. I can tell. You came to sit with us! You're going to help us bring whoever's alive back," Elsie laughed slightly – a little, girly laugh that didn't fit her appearance at all.

It took Renee a moment to smile, realizing that Elsie wasn't going to be like Kelly. She glanced to John, and saw he had relaxed, realizing the same thing. Making eye contact with her, John did something that took her back to the times on the _Hercules_.

Beneath the table, he grabbed her hand and squeezed it ever so slightly. Her heart fluttered at this little gesture, and a small smile came to her lips.

The rest of breakfast went on smoothly. Conversation was kept brief, although Elsie was being friendly; she wasn't used to talking a lot. There was a noticeable air of awkwardness around her. She seemed more comfortable talking to John instead of Renee, mostly because she could relate better to him, Renee guessed.

Finally, it came time for Renee to report back to Bryce, who, Renee confirmed with a look over her shoulder, was waiting for her at the entryway to the cafeteria. She looked back to John and Elsie, making a face.

"I have to go," she announced.

"Already?" John asked quietly.

"Push ups, sit ups, all that jazz," Renee got to her feet with her tray, grimacing as she put weight back on her leg, "I'll see you later," she glanced to Elsie, "Nice to meet you."

"Likewise," Elsie answered, and called after her just as she started to walk away, "Look on the bright side, Kilburn. The meeting begins at 1100 hours. Not that far away."

Renee tried to look enthusiastic, but she knew it would feel like a very long time until 1100 hours rolled around. "Yeah, right." She called back.

John watched over his shoulder as Renee limped her way towards Bryce, and left the room. He knew what she was doing was difficult for her, and that she wasn't even close to being enthralled about it. When he glanced back to Elsie, he saw she was watching him rather intently, her eyebrows scrunched together in thought.

"There's something between you two." She announced, sounding more like she was talking to herself – she kept her voice quiet and thoughtful sounding.

"We're together." John declared. He watched Elsie's face for any instantaneous transformations that would portray shock, disgust, or disapproval. Instead, a faint smile came to her lips.

"Really?" she sounded interested.

John nodded ever so slightly, glancing around at the other people around them, unnecessarily paranoid that they'd hear.

"You can feel... love?" Elsie whispered.

"Yes," John replied, keeping his voice low to match hers, "Can't you?"

"I don't know what it is," she shook her head, chewing on her lip in thought, "I mean, I know what it is, but, I wouldn't know it if I felt it. Let's just say my life didn't have much room for it anyway. Before I was selected for the Spartan III project, I didn't know anything good. I had no one who seemed to care about me. My mother was addicted to drugs and alcohol. I don't know who my father is, I never met him. Even though I was little, I remember my mom always telling me I was a mistake – and that I was a freak like my dad." Elsie looked hurt for a moment, but John watched as she shoved it back, "Do you remember your parents?"

John thought for a moment.

"No."

"You're lucky," Elsie replied, sounding slightly upset, "More ways than one." She paused, "What does it feel like, to love someone?"

"I don't really know to explain it," he couldn't come up with a better answer, "But, it's powerful. You can't control it, like you can control anger or hold back your happiness. It just... happens."

"That girl of yours, she amazes me. Not only is she not prejudiced against Spartans, she loves you. Regardless of how different you are compared to everyone else. Too bad others wouldn't take after her. I've learned to tolerate the names, but, it still makes me feel – not quite human. I was the last survivor of my team – they were killed in an explosion. I was injured. They sent me to Earth. Before they could send me on another mission - the war ended. I've found myself kind of lost since then. I volunteered to go with some of the search platoons, but they wouldn't let me. I'm happy they've finally given me something meaningful to do. I don't know what to do when I'm not fighting. Surely you feel the same way."

"Civilian life is something I haven't been able to adapt to easily," John replied, "But Renee has been a great help. Still, I don't think I ever considered myself as a true civilian. Civilians don't know what I know."

"We were never created to be civilians," Elsie wrung her hands thoughtfully, "Thus, we can never be. Civilians are innocent; their hands are clean from bloodshed. But we've seen and done things most don't imagine. Trying to pretend to be a civilian will never work. We might be able to fool others, but we can't fool ourselves and try to ignore what we _really_ are. Discouraging, really. But I doubt they expected us to live this long – especially the Spartan III's. They call us the disposable soldiers. Spartans are meant to fight, to kill, to die – we have no other purpose."

"As soldiers, we have no other purpose," John replied, "But as human beings, we have purpose. To live, to love."

"I don't feel human." Elsie remarked coldly, "I gave up on trying a long time ago." An expression of true sorrow crossed her features, as she gathered up her tray. Her voice suddenly came out surprisingly choked, "I'm glad you have that luxury, John."

She left the table wordlessly. John watched her as she dumped her tray and stacked it on top of the others and left the cafeteria. For a moment, he thought it was his fault, but realized that it was nothing he'd done. Elsie wasn't upset with him. She was battling something internal.

--

Time passed rather quickly. The hours leading up to the meeting were, for both John and Renee, nothing exciting. They both suffered, although from different things. John had nothing to do, he hadn't yet heard word on his MJOLNIR armor, so he walked around the base aimlessly, full of energy. Even after going to the gym a couple of times, he still found himself jittery with anticipation. He couldn't wait to hear the details for the mission, and what exactly what was going to happen. And to see who else Lord Hood had chosen to accompany them. John didn't see Elsie for the remainder of the time leading up to the meeting's scheduled time. He'd assumed she'd gone off somewhere to be alone.

Renee, was opposite of John. She had too much to do. Once more, her physical limits were pushed as she suffered through repetitive drill with Bryce. The instructor was determined for perfection, and made Renee salute and salute again, stand at ease, stand at attention, march, and so on until she was satisfied that Renee was doing as close as humanly possible to her idea of perfect drill. Then, after that, Bryce had taken her to the target range and made Renee fire every weapon, except for the rocket launcher, of course. Renee's aim had been satisfyingly accurate, so much so that even after she proved her aim with the assault rifle, battle rifle and the pistol, Bryce allowed her to shoot the sniper rifle just for the hell of it. Renee, since it didn't take so much physical torture to just fire a gun, came close to enjoying the session at target practice.

Although, it sure had felt strange to hold a weapon in her hands after all this time. The first time she fired the assault rifle, she had been struck with a moment of horrifying nostalgia. When she closed her eyes she could feel the bullets penetrating her body, as the dying Elite took his last shot at her – the sound ringing through her ears. But she had kept her composure – and almost forgot all about it when she saw her shooting accuracy was almost as good as it had been eighteen years ago. Bryce had been pleased, and Renee basked in the momentary glory of actually doing something right.

Bryce then made Renee go for another run, although not as long as the first one had been. At first, Renee had dreaded the thought of running again, but she soon realized that Bryce was spending the time doing this so that she wouldn't have to put her through the obstacle course again so soon.

"Don't think you're ready for that again, yet, Trainee," she'd said during their run. And Renee couldn't help but agree. Although she was running in the midday sun, her clothes and hair soaked with sweat, her muscles aching, it sure bet out tearing her way through that horrendous obstacle course again.

Finally, upon their return from the run, Bryce had awarded her with a bottle of water, clap on the back, and delivered the most pleasant orders: for her to go take a shower, change uniform, and be ready to be called for the meeting that was due in an hour.

The shower was simply heaven. At first, Renee had let it run cold to cool herself off, then turned the temperature up to soothe her aching muscles. Once she'd gotten out, she realized sheepishly, that she'd been in the shower for longer than ten minutes. Fifteen, maybe. Guilty pleasure, for sure. She then got dressed – and since she was out from underneath Bryce's watchful eye, she went to John's room.

Renee walked in, with surprise, to see John fast asleep on the bed. Unlike any other time before, he looked comical. He was sprawled out on his stomach, one arm and one leg dangling over the edge of the bed. His head, turned sideways, was half on the pillow, half on the mattress. His mouth hung open slightly – and Renee realized, with a closer examination, that a trickle of drool ran down his cheek.

She had to stifle a laugh as she limped over to his bedside, and perched herself on the edge, looking down at his sleeping form. Now that she was even closer, she could see there was a damp spot of John's drool on the sheet. Oh, did she wish she had a camera. It was a truly priceless moment, one that could be totally contradictory of the whole Spartan reputation. At this moment in time, John reminded her of a little baby. His sleeping expression was so innocent and adorable – aside from the drool, which shone on his chin and cheek in the light.

Should she wake him?

The meeting would be soon, and John would want to have a little time to fix his appearance, or, just walk off the sleepiness.

Renee leaned forward and extended one finger and gently prodded his bicep. Not expecting it to wake him, she was startled when John's eyes shot open and he jumped up – and there was a crack as John's head collided with her jaw. The two of them let out a yelp; John's was not from pain, but confusion. Renee however, drew back; hand over her mouth, tasting the copper tang of blood. The moment was instantly soured.

"Oh, oh my god," John said, instantly alert. He reached for her, "I'm... so sorry! Are you alright?"

Renee, shocked from the sudden accidental assault, withdrew a shaky hand from her mouth, to see it was bright with blood. She felt it running down her chin. It was all she could taste. John panicked, she saw the horror in his eyes, and how the horror turned to anger, anger towards himself.

He cursed, and in a blur was gone out of the door. Renee sat, stunned on the bed, holding her hand against her mouth to try and stop the blood from coming, but it dripped out through her fingers. She leaned over the floor so it wouldn't get on her pants. Her head felt like it was splitting in two, it throbbed viciously, yet she was very much alert. She couldn't keep her hand from trembling, and she watched little droplets of blood hit the tiled floor. Where'd John gone? Did he leave her?

She heard him come flying back into the room, and before she knew it, John had yanked her hand away from her face and pressed a wad of paper towels to her mouth. His hand held the back of her head, and she heard his frantic breathing beside her.

"Renee, talk to me," he said, his voice laced with panic, "I'm so sorry... I..."

"I... I'm fine," she managed to reply, her voice thick with blood, "It's alright, it was an accident."

John pulled the paper towels away for a moment to look at her lip. She heard him hiss in a breath.

"Where's the blood coming from?" Renee demanded. It was all she could taste, but she couldn't really feel any pain, just numbness.

"Your lip is split wide open," was his quick reply, "How does your jaw feel? You can move it?"

"Yes," She nodded, still in a state of shock. But she forgave him the moment it happened. It was actually more her fault than his. John was never a heavy sleeper, she should have thought poking him could cause him to startle.

"God, I'm so sorry," she heard him whisper through clenched teeth. Self-hatred was apparent in his voice.

"It was an accident," Renee said, squirming out of his care. She held the paper towel to her lip herself, and felt her lip sting for the first time, "Accidents happen."

"Are you sure your jaw is okay?" John didn't seem sure what to do with himself. His hand hovered above hers holding the paper towel. He didn't like that she wasn't allowing him to aid her.

"Yes!"

"Apply pressure, even if it hurts. Stop the bleeding. You bit right through a vein."

"It's not like I hit an artery," Renee tried to joke, emitting a shaky laugh, "I'll be fine."

She glanced to John, and no humor was present on his features. His eyebrows were furrowed so horribly his forehead was wrinkled. His eyes appeared dark, mouth pressed together so tight it looked like he had no lips. She couldn't bear to look at him directly in the eye. She knew he was blaming himself, like it hadn't been an accident at all.

"Oh John," she sighed, and wrapped her free arm around him in a tight hug, laying her cheek against his warm chest, "Please, don't blame yourself. You know I will always forgive you, no matter what happens. I love you."

"I should've known that it was you waking me," He said, not seeming in the mood to hug. Instead, he held her back at arm's length and took the bloodied paper towel from her and examined her lip again, "My subconscious mind, well, it hasn't quite adapted. A part of me must've thought it was one of the Covenant."

"Right, I'm so scary," She joked, smiling, feeling the sting as the split in her lip opened because of it. But the blood flow had slowed. John was looking at her lip cautiously; as she felt another bubble of blood lazily well up from the wound. He dabbed at it again, looking at it with a threatening expression, as if he was daring it to bleed again.

"How about this," John said, ignoring her little joke, "You can punch me in the mouth. Hard as you can, split my lip open too."

Renee made a strange face.

"No. Why ever would I want to punch you?"

"Payback," John replied honestly.

"You're a fool," Renee declared, "It's not like you just hauled off and belted me one. We bonked heads. An accident – you don't pay someone back because of an accidental injury. Besides, I don't believe in revenge." She dabbed her lip with one finger and looked at it, it only came away with a little blood. It was beginning to clot.

John frowned, and reached up to cup her face with one hand, looking deep into her eyes.

"Your lip is swelling."

"So it should. I don't care. Just another battle wound." A smirk emerged on her face.

He looked thoughtful for a moment, then leaned in and kissed her gently, not caring that her mouth tasted like blood. When he pulled back, he saw she was grinning. Putting her hands on his shoulders, she leaned in so that her face was inches from his own. Making bold eye contact, she whispered rather seductively:

"If my head wasn't pounding, and we didn't have a meeting to go to, I wouldn't hesitate in repeating last night's events." She ran one hand down his chest, let it hover over his belt buckle, before retiring both of her hands to her side – and moved away from him, ignoring her lust for the feeling of his bare body against hers. In an instant, she was all business. She got to her feet, her mood changing completely.

"But, we've got more important things to contend to," she gestured towards the door.

John snapped out of a mental fantasy, imagining her hands on him. Clearing his throat, he stood. Putting on his signature "Master Chief" expression, he nodded curtly.

"That we do, Trainee."

--

**A/N: **Sorry about this chapter being a little late. Last few days have been busy, with back to school and all. Like always, hope you enjoy. - AB


	14. Not Your Average Meeting

**Chapter 14 – Not Your Average Meeting**

** August 22****nd****, 2553 **

Once Renee got her lip to stop bleeding, she and John headed to the designated room for the meeting. Her lip, however, was visibly swollen and it was clear to anyone who looked at it that she'd split it open. She just hoped that no one would ask how it happened. Hopefully they'd assume it just had happened during her training – not because she and John had clunked heads together.

When they walked into the room, John first, Renee following, they saw Lord Hood at the head of the long ovular glass table. Immediately to his right, was Lieutenant Lyons, and on his left, Elsie. Beside Elsie, there were two vacant seats, designated for them. Renee noticed that Elsie's expression was dark; she didn't look at all pleased.

That's when, she and John seemed to notice at the exact same time – who else was in the room. Two faces were familiar, the rest weren't – but the two faces that they knew were ones that Renee knew John probably didn't want to see. She immediately understood why Elsie had such a negative expression on her face.

There, on Lyon's side of the table, sat the serious-faced Edward Buck, and the unmistakable blonde beside him, Veronica Dare. ODSTs. Renee exhaled almost unnoticeably, and looked at the other four men sitting beside them. They were ODSTs as well, it was made clear on their uniforms – and they all sat together, opposite Elsie, probably because she was a Spartan.

Renee was bewildered, all along she'd heard John say that Lord Hood would pick good people to accompany them on the mission – but she wasn't so sure now. They were ODSTs. Although she didn't know much about the Spartans and the ODSTS, she knew that they didn't get along.

She looked up to John, and saw all emotion had drained from his face. He made eye contact with Buck, and Buck gave him a little grin, then looked to her and nodded his head politely.

"John, Renee, there you are," Lord Hood broke the awkward silence, "Please, take a seat."

John sat rigidly beside Elsie, looking at Lord Hood to avoid looking at any of the ODSTs. Renee sat calmly beside him, glancing up at the ODSTs and then to Lord Hood. Lieutenant Lyons caught her eye however, he made a face, raising his hand to his lip. Renee knew he was indicating her injury. She gave him a little shrug, and he simply shook his head.

"Everyone's here now," Lord Hood began again, looking around the table at everyone.

"This is everyone?" Elsie spoke out. She looked almost offended.

"Yes."

Elsie nodded, although she looked not at all pleased.

"Now, I'm aware that a couple of you may already know each other," Lord Hood announced, "But if you don't, look around. These faces are the faces you're going to be seeing for the next month. Do I need to introduce you, or are you going to do it yourselves, people?" He gestured to Elsie, "You can start."

"Petty Officer Elsie G153, Spartan III," she said in monotone.

"Master Chief Petty Officer John-117, Spartan II." John answered, without much expression either.

"Ex-Corporal Renee Kilburn," Renee was next, she sheepishly added, "Soon to be Corporal, again, though."

This got a little chuckle from the ODSTS.

"I'm Gunnery Sergeant Edward Buck," Buck was next, and unlike the three before him, put pride in his voice, "And this is Captain Veronica Dare, that's Mickey, Dutch, Romeo, and the Rookie. If you want to know their full names, just ask. They don't bite."

The ODSTs chuckled. Renee glanced to John and Elsie, and saw not even a spark of humor crossed their faces.

"Bam, said the lady," Buck muttered, with a grin to Veronica. She smirked.

"And, I'm Lieutenant Lyons," Lyons finished off.

"These are your team mates," Lord Hood announced, "You're all going to have to rely on each other in order to make this mission a success. Now, just a few days ago, we received a message from the Zeta Doradus system – a call for help. From Spartan-087, who, until now, we thought was dead. She's somehow stranded, and we're not sure if there are other survivors – but there were other Spartans accompanying her, as well as Dr. Catherine Halsey. Their status, however, is unknown. As well, Elsie, her Spartans were on a mission in generally the same area, until all contact was lost – just around the same time the planet of Onyx was destroyed."

Elsie's hand shot into the air. Lord Hood gave her a nod to speak.

"With all due respect, sir," she said calmly, "I do believe the ODSTs have nothing to do with our Spartans whereabouts. It is solely _our _concern," she glanced to John, "and of the UNSC. It's our responsibility as Spartans to rescue them if they're alive. ODSTs have their responsibilities for their kind." She looked to Buck with her signature piercing glare, "Are any of _your _men MIA in the Zeta Doradus system, Sergeant Buck?"

"No," Lord Hood answered for him, and looked to Elsie sternly, "I can understand where you're coming from, Elsie. But when it comes to talent and expertise, the ODSTs are second only to the Spartans. I figured it would be best to have them accompany you, the Master Chief and Kilburn on this mission."

"Once again, with all due respect, I think they'll just get in my way." Elsie's eyes, at this point, were a bright blue, her cheeks tinged red with obvious annoyance. Renee glanced at her, and saw she was allowing this little bit of intimidating air float around her. Like John, she was a master of her expressions, but there was no denying she was unimpressed by Lord Hood's choice, and wasn't afraid to voice her opinion about it.

With a quick glance to John, Renee noticed that he had a cautious look on his face, as if he was discomforted with Elsie's boldness. And she couldn't really blame him. Lord Hood was a much higher rank than she, and she was practically questioning his actions.

Lord Hood narrowed his eyes in thought, and was quiet for a moment. Just as he was about to speak, Elsie broke in again.

"Who will be in charge of this mission?" Elsie demanded, "I'm quite aware of everyone's ranks, but..."

"John will have full authority," Lord Hood answered, keeping his voice calm.

Elsie leaned back in her chair, looking relieved. She shot a glance across the table to the ODSTs, looking at each one of them individually, saving the most potent, challenging look for Buck. John leaned over into her ear, to whisper:

"Calm down."

"You're not aggravated yourself?" she whispered back.

John didn't say anything. Elsie, sitting in her chair with the posture similar to an evil mastermind, drummed her fingers on the armrests, biting her lip and looking around the table. Then, without warning, she shot up from the chair and gracefully swept from the room – quickly muttering:

"I need a minute."

"Elsie!" John called after her, and then turned to Lord Hood, "I apologize, sir."

He too, got up from his chair – and Renee, not wanting to be left alone, went with him, not looking back as they left the meeting room.

"I thought they were meant to have no emotions," Dutch announced, and the ODSTs chuckled. Lord Hood, leaned back in his chair, letting out a sigh as he rubbed his temples. He looked at the remaining personnel in the room,

"I guess this will be postponed until further notice."

Lyons leaned close to his ear.

"This was to be expected, sir," he muttered, "Spartans and ODSTs don't have a very nice history."

Buck heard him.

"No wonder!" He exclaimed, "Those Spartans are not the least bit approachable!"

---

John, with Renee following not far behind him, walked out through the main lobby to the front doors – where outside seated on the steps leading up to them, Elsie could be seen sitting. She wasn't looking in their direction, but she knew they were following her.

John shoved the door open, and immediately Elsie whipped her head around, craning her neck to look up to him.

"I thought I said I needed a minute," she snapped, "Just so you know, Master Chief, there wasn't any underlying implication that I wanted you or your girlfriend to follow me."

Renee hearing her deadly tone, wanted to slowly slink back inside and close the door, but she didn't. She looked to John, sensing that there was an argument on the horizon – and not involving her. The idea of John and Elsie clashing verbally wasn't something that sounded very nice.

"Why did you walk out?" John asked, not moving as he looked down at her.

"Because, I can't believe that we're being paired with a bunch of ODSTs, that's what." She stood up, and paced the width of the step, before finally deciding to lean against the wall, "You're mad too, don't deny it. Tell the truth, you didn't expect Lord Hood to do that did you?"

"No," he shook his head.

"Why would he do that!?" Elsie demanded.

"I don't know."

Elsie sighed deeply, running her fingers through her hair. She looked from John to Renee.

"You're not a Spartan," she gestured towards her, "They won't bother you. Then maybe you can tell them where their place is."

"They haven't gone out line yet," Renee answered calmly, "If we have to work together, we can work together. I'm sure we can."

"It's only a matter of time," John muttered, "Buck won't be able to keep his mouth shut."

"You know them?" Elsie was quick to catch on.

"Only him and Captain Dare. They were in LA."

"I don't like any of them. Not a single one. Did you see the way they were looking at us?"

"And me," Renee spoke up.

"Why you?" Elsie questioned.

"Buck knows about John and I." She said softly, "To him, I mind-as-well be a Spartan if I'm around one."

"I'm not going to stand for it. That's it. I'm going to talk to Lord Hood once I calm down and get them the hell out of our business. It is our business, you know. Why the hell would they care about the fate of our Spartans? They don't give a flying fuck what happens," Elsie's cheeks were red with fury.

Renee glanced up, surprised at Elsie's harsh tongue. She was momentarily reminded of Amy. John seemed surprised too. It grew quiet, and Elsie looked up at both of them, realizing the awkwardness she'd just created.

"I'm sorry," she said softly, "I'm not usually like this... I'm just angry."

John nodded in understanding.

"I've been struggling with emotions anyway," she added with a shrug, looking down somewhere at the ground as she folded her arms on her chest, "And now this."

Suddenly, her head snapped up, almost at the same time as John's. Renee, late to keep up with their fast reflexes, whipped around to see the door open, and Buck walk out rather humbly, his hands shoved into his pockets, shoulders rounded in casual stature.

It immediately grew silent.

Buck was well aware of the three pairs of eyes on him, and the fact that they were all delivering questioning glares. Looking up at the challenging, unwelcoming faces, he exhaled deeply.

"Hello," he said with a quick raise of his eyebrows.

He received no response. Renee, with a quick glance to Elsie, saw she had the most unpleasant expression on her face. Buck clearly lost a bit of his confidence – it portrayed itself rather plainly on his face - but he didn't falter.

"Look, girls – and guys," he glanced to John, "I just want to make something clear to you. I'm just about as pissed off about this whole arrangement as you are. In fact, probably we're even. The rest of my men inside aren't too happy either. I know we haven't got along too well with your type in the past... but there's nothing we can do about this arrangement. Lord Hood's postponed the meeting until everyone's calmed down – and I just asked him if, he would consider changing people around, but he said no. What he says goes. So, although we may not like each other too much, it looks like we're stuck with other for the next month or two – or however long this is gonna take. And you may not think that we care about your Spartans that are MIA, but they're UNSC personnel and we don't want to have anyone MIA, no matter who they are."

"Agreed," John said curtly, "Your point's been made, Sergeant."

"I'm not into causing trouble," Buck continued, "Neither are any of men – so, if you stay off our toes, we'll stay off yours. It's that simple. I think if we try hard enough, we _can _work together." He glanced to Renee, "How you doing, ex-Corporal?"

"Fine, thank you," Renee too, kept it short and sweet.

"I couldn't ask in the meeting, but I noticed your lip," He looked concerned, "How'd that happen?"

Renee was silent for a moment. She looked away from him, deciding it would be best not to answer.

"Somebody hit you?" Buck pressed. Renee's eyes flashed up to meet his, and realized at about the same time as him that he had said the wrong thing. There was a blur, and she saw John lunge towards Buck.

"John, no!" she shouted, reaching out helplessly, knowing she couldn't do anything to stop him.

John's hand was just about to grab Buck's shirt, then, next thing Renee knew, John was several feet away, with Elsie's arm shoved beneath his chin. She had him pinned against the wall.

"Calm down, damn you!" Elsie shouted. John looked furious, but he couldn't do anything without choking himself off. Renee was surprised – Elsie was stronger than he was. She looked to Buck, and saw he was rather dumbstruck, realization slowly sinking in that Elsie had just saved him from an incredibly angry Spartan.

"Leave," Elsie's voice was deadly as she glared at Buck, "_Now._"

Buck was quick to listen. He rushed back inside in less than a second, not even making a sound. Renee's heart was pounding in her chest. She had visions of a situation similar to the time John had punched Troy and broke his jaw. The sickening crack of John's fist making contact with his face, the way Troy dropped instantly like a dead weight, knocked out cold. She shuddered, not wanting to see anything like that ever again. She allowed herself to come back to the real world, where the air was tense with anger.

Elsie let go of John, stepping away from him, almost disgustedly, as if he'd done something unforgiveable.

"What were you _thinking_!?" she demanded, not waiting for an answer. She was furious, "Thank god I was able to stop you. What were you planning to do to him, John?"

John simply shook his head, looking past her. Although his breathing was controlled, Renee could clearly see he was incredibly angry. His fists were clenched so tight that they were trembling.

"As much as we don't like the ODSTs, we can't go pummelling them." Elsie continued, shaking her head in disbelief, "Your lunging at him wasn't a threat. If I hadn't of stopped you, you would've hurt him. Damn it John, do you realize what type of trouble you would be in if you hurt him? You'd have probably _killed _him. Not even ODSTs have a chance against us."

"I know." John answered softly. He met Renee's eyes for a moment, his apologetic expression that briefly showed was as sincere as he could make it, "I'm sorry." He looked back to Elsie, who still looked disgusted by his outbreak.

"You should join Renee in training!" Elsie began to pace, "You're showing too much, John. Feel emotions, but don't let them show, do you remember that? Don't smile, don't laugh, don't scream, and don't do anything – if it's not appropriate. And going after ODSTs with intentions to injure is _never _appropriate."

"You're right," John was quick to confess. He shrugged, "I _am _showing too much."

Renee, who still hadn't said anything, could only watch as John professionally wiped all traces of expression and emotion from his face. Without another word, he walked back inside. She got up to go after him, but Elsie told her otherwise.

"Don't," she said, "Leave him be."

Renee hesitated, contemplating ignoring her words and going after John anyway, but she turned back around and eased herself down to sit on the top step. Emitting a sigh and running her fingers through her short hair, making it stand on end, she looked up to Elsie.

"He didn't mean it," she said softly, "John, he's just become too accustomed to defending me. He feels like he should protect me from everything."

"It's a good trait, I suppose," Elsie answered, coming over and sitting down beside her, "But I wouldn't really know about men and what's the right way for them to treat a woman. All I know is that compared to how I was treated when I was little, anything is better than that."

"What happened?"

"I just wasn't lucky to have a good family, I guess," Elsie shrugged, "My mother was on drugs, I never knew my dad. It was a real break when I was selected for the Spartan III program. I remember some of the kids who'd got selected were sad about not being able to see their parents again. Me, I was the happiest girl in the world."

"I'm sorry," Renee replied softly.

"What did Buck do that set John off like that?" Elsie changing the subject, obviously uncomfortable with the other one, "I missed it, I guess."

"It was when he said 'did someone hit you'," Renee sighed, "My lip," she reached up to touch it, "It was an accident, before the meeting John and I bonked heads. And since we met Buck in LA, there was always this thing about him; he was concerned that my being with John wasn't safe. That John would hurt me or something, you know, because he's a Spartan."

Elsie smiled.

"Haven't I heard that one before," she shook her head, "Well, in that case, John had every right to be mad."

"He would never hurt me on purpose," Renee continued, "As strong as he is, he's gentle around me. Us hitting heads, it was just an accident – but he beat himself up over the whole thing. He's probably still not over it."

"John's gotten too used to expressing himself," Elsie admitted, "I mean, it's fine when he's with you, alone, but he has to remember to control himself now that he's once again Master Chief. One of the first things we were taught as Spartans was to not cry when we missed our parents – or when we hurt ourselves. Not to blow up when we were angry. We could smile and laugh, but keep it minimum. It was a reserved thing. I just hope that John's lunging at Buck won't get him any repercussions."

"This wasn't the first time John's done this," Renee confessed, "In 2535; he punched a Lieutenant and broke his jaw."

Elsie's eyes widened.

"Once again, it was over something verbal, something directed at me," Renee continued, "It didn't even bother me that much, like what Buck just said, I didn't even really care. But it made John mad. He has an awful temper when he allows himself to express it. I've only seen it a couple of times, but I wouldn't like to be on the receiving end of John's anger."

"John must really care about you," Elsie observed, "Usually, the only way to piss a Spartan off is to do something to us or one of our own. And it has to be something big, something serious. A real good punch, you know? We usually are indifferent about everything else. Glass a city, sure, we're pissed, but it wasn't _our _city. Shoot up a few marines, yeah, they're UNSC personnel, but they're not _our _men, you know? No offense," she grinned slightly.

"None taken," Renee nodded.

"But when you screw with a Spartan, say you catch one of us off guard and get us in critical condition," Elsie narrowed her eyes, perhaps remembering a similar real life situation, "It's like fucking with a mafia or something. We'd come for you, and wouldn't quit until you were dead. And I mean dead." Elsie chewed on her lip, "You see, that's what's interesting. John treats you like you're a Spartan, but it's even more extreme. Someone just says something to you and it's a good enough reason to punch 'em out."

"I don't really like it," she confessed, "I mean, I can understand that John doesn't want anything to happen to me, but sometimes, it's a part of life. You'll get into arguments and fights with people. It's been part of our human nature since the beginning of time. And if it comes to it, I sure know how to tell someone off. I'm a marine. We can kick ass, both verbally and physically. Ooh rah, right?"

Elsie laughed softly.

"Right." She was silent for a moment, and she hugged her knees, looking out over the parking lot before turning back to face Renee, "You know what? When I first learned you were a marine and with John, I was sceptical. I thought you were going to be just another jarhead who thought they were king of hill. But I like you, Kilburn. Marine or no marine. Consider yourself the first."

Renee grinned.

"Thank you," She laughed, "While we're making confessions, when I first saw you, I thought you were intimidating. See, I've only met two other Spartans besides John. One of them didn't really pay any attention to me, but the other, she wasn't very nice."

"You're experiencing the same thing I am, then," Elsie said, "Although only with Spartans. The ones you've met have been negative towards you, so, when you finally meet one that isn't half that bad, it's surprising."

"Exactly."

"Well, I can assure you we Spartans, if we appear closed off, it's because we know nothing else. It's how we were taught," she explained, "You probably realized that with John."

"Oh, yes," Renee shook her head at the memory, "When I first met him, he barely knew how to say hello."

"But you've changed him so! I still haven't decided if it's a good thing or bad." Elsie thought for a moment before contradicting herself, "Well, I suppose if John is happy... it's good. Right?"

"I can only hope so," Renee shrugged, "Although it's proven so far that this morphing of him is kind of playing with everyone's image of Master Chief."

"Who cares about everyone's image of him. He doesn't, that's for sure. Even though I told him he's showing too much emotion, he didn't need to be told. He probably knows every time he smiles or laughs that it's not quite right. But John's an adult; he's been making his own decisions for quite a long time now. I doubt he'll take what I said to heart – and if he does, it's for his own benefit. He knows what's best. He'll do whatever makes him happy, I suppose."

"He's not happy right now, I'd reckon," Renee sighed.

"This whole ODST thing is going to take a while before it's completely ironed out," Elsie pursed her lips thoughtfully, "If that's even possible. Lord Hood, however great he might be, I don't think this decision is one of his best."

"Hmm."

"I suppose I can have faith, though. I mean, I won't have to worry about losing control and hurting anyone," Elsie narrowed her eyes, "As long as no one tries to hurt me."

"What just happened to Buck will no doubt make its rounds to the ears of his fellow ODSTs. Personally, after this, I think they won't want to touch either of you."

"You're probably right," Elsie was clearly amused by the thought.

"Do you figure we should head back to the meeting room?" Renee asked as she got to her feet, "I felt kind of like a fool walking out of there."

"You didn't have to follow," Elsie sighed truthfully, but she got to her feet, towering over Renee's height, "But you're right." She watched Renee's features transform into an expression of childish disappointment, "What?" she questioned.

"You're tall," Renee remarked.

Elsie let out a snort, a smirk coming to her face.

"And?" she questioned, "So is John. Taller than me, if I recall."

"It's just that everyone I know is taller than me, except for my drill sergeant. And she's not too approachable." Renee opened the door to go inside.

"Be thankful, shortie," Elsie made a face, patting Renee on the head as a joke, "It's not easy being a woman who is 6'4"... especially if you add the word Spartan to the mix. I've been mistaken for a man on more than one occasion..." She flexed one of her arms for emphasis.

"You don't look like a man," Renee observed, as they walked down the hallway, "Besides from the very large muscles..."

"Yeah," Elsie scoffed, "At least I have a thin build. If I was anything like John..." She shook her head, "He's the biggest Spartan I've seen. No word of a lie. That's how I knew who he was when I first saw him. No marine could look like that even if they tried."

They were silent for a moment before Elsie continued,

"John let me stop him, you know."

"What?" Renee asked, not catching on instantly.

"When he went for Buck. I must have looked pretty strong throwing him around like that. But, he mustn't have really wanted to hurt him. If he had really wanted to, I wouldn't have been able to stop him."

"Really?"

"Spartan III's aren't much stronger than the II's. But I knew the moment I saw John, I wouldn't stand a chance against him if we were to clash."

"What makes you so certain?" a familiar voice replied from behind them. Renee and Elsie turned around. John, who hadn't been there seconds before, was leaning against the wall of the hallway, looking much more composed than he had been when he stormed back inside the building.

"I've never fought a Spartan III before," he said.

"Up for a little energy burning?" Elsie asked, catching on quickly.

"What?" Renee demanded, not catching on, "You two aren't serious, why would you..."

"All in good fun," John replied, with a rather solemn expression, "When we were still in training, we were encouraged to 'play fight' with one another. No harm is done."

Elsie walked closer to him, a little smile on her face. Bringing her fists up, her blue eyes shone with excitement.

"I must say, I haven't done this in a while."

"Neither have I," John answered, not raising his fists, looking rather confident, "Engage?"

Elsie nodded.

"Defence?" she snapped back.

"Whenever you're ready."

Renee realized she'd backed herself against the wall, unsure what to expect. This seemed ridiculous. Two Spartans randomly deciding to take each other on? In the middle of the hallway? She'd only blinked – and when she opened her eyes again, she saw Elsie and John had begun their fight. She could barely keep up. The two of them seemed to fly around the little hallway, ducking, blocking and throwing punches and kicks, the movements a blur.

She managed to catch Elsie throwing a well-placed punch towards John's face, only for his hand to come up and stop it. There was the loud smack of her fist hitting his hand. Renee flinched, but John and Elsie didn't look like they were angry. They looked rather amused, as they continued in their little punch-and-block game.

"Damn, you're good!" Elsie cried, laughter ringing out in her voice, "I'd say," she dodged one of his punches, "We're equal..." she threw a punch in return, only to have him block it, "But... not quite!" She brought her other fist directly behind her fist, and John didn't have time to stop it. She punched him right in the solar plexus with a sickening thud. Renee jumped in shock, raising her hand to her mouth. John doubled over slightly, gasping in a breath of air, but a smile came to his face.

"Don't let your guard down, soldier!" He replied, and with a swipe of his foot, Elsie was on the floor on her back. Her head smacked off the tile flooring, but she didn't seem at all fazed. She laughed, "Good one!" Then next thing, her legs had wrapped around John's, and she dragged him down with her. His body too, hit the floor with a sickening sound.

Renee could only stare in awe. They didn't seem hurt, but she didn't want to see it anymore. The two of them jumped to their feet, eager to begin round two.

"Stop!"

John and Elsie instantly looked to her.

"What's wrong?" John asked.

"We're not hurting each other!" Elsie tried to explain.

"Yes, but..." she began, but John interrupted her.

"Let's see how your training is coming along," he said, raising his fists in her direction, "You and me, let's go."

Renee didn't like this John at all.

"I can't fight you," She shook her head, "Are you absurd?"

"I'm not going to hurt you," John seemed impatient, almost childish, "Come on." He gave her one of those smiles. She felt herself weaken. Giving in, she ran towards him, a smile on her face. She flung a punch playfully at him, only to have her fist hit the rock solid palm of his hand, stopping it instantly.

"Good throw," Elsie remarked.

"See," Renee laughed, "John, there's no point in this." But she threw another punch at him, only to have him block it again. This time, however, his hand closed around hers, and he pulled her towards him, and he gave her a passionate kiss, before letting her go.

"Yes there is," he whispered softly, giving her a little smile. She returned it, despite feeling awkward. She hadn't expected John to kiss her in front of Elsie. She could feel Elsie's eyes on them, so Renee followed her instinct and looked in her general direction. Elsie had seen what had just happened, no doubt, but her face was rather unreadable. Quite close to the "default expression" the Spartans liked to have, in fact. When John looked towards her, she gave him a tight lipped smile, but it didn't look very genuine.

"Where were you two headed?" John asked them.

Renee thought Elsie was going to respond, but when she didn't, she answered for her.

"We were going back to the meeting room."

"Oh," John raised an eyebrow, "Maybe that's not the best place for me right now."

"Why not?" Renee demanded, "You got mad at Buck, but what he said is no big deal. It hardly bothered me."

"Well, it bothered me," he answered in a low, gravelly voice.

"It doesn't matter! This isn't about whether you and Buck can get along. It's about organizing the mission to retrieve Kelly and any other surviving Spartans. Stop being so selfish, if I can get over it, you should be able to."

A stunned expression washed over John's features, and when he glanced up to Elsie, she was quick to agree with Renee.

"She's right, you know." Elsie snapped, folding her arms on her chest, "We're wasting time. _I'm_ going back to the meeting. Dunno about you."

She seemed rather bitter as she turned her back on them and began walking down the hallway. As she got further away, she could feel a strange feeling welling up inside of her. An urge to punch the wall suddenly took over her, and with a low cry, she slammed her fist against the wall as she walked. She waited, to hear John or Renee call after her and ask what was wrong, but neither of them did. Elsie hurried down the hallway, disliking the feeling she was getting in her throat. She wasn't sure what it was, as it started to burn. Her nose smarted, and not long after, her eyes. Her vision started to blur.

The mental image of John jokingly play-fighting with Renee, then as he leaned in and kissed her replayed itself in her mind. He looked so happy, she looked so happy. Elsie couldn't help but wonder what it was like to feel how they felt - to have each other to lean on, to have each other's support, friendship, and love. Love, she hated that word. She'd always heard it and it seemed to dangle in front of her nose as an opportunity that would never happen. She knew what it was, but she never felt it herself.

As Elsie struggled to hold back the tears that were welling up in her eyes, she realized with guilt, that she was envious of their happiness. It was something she'd never known. She wished she could just feel it once, only if it was a fleeting experience, there and gone with a blink of an eye.

---

"She's upset," Renee had whispered as soon as Elsie had turned the corner of the hallway and disappeared from sight. She and John had both seen her throw a punch at the wall, and they'd heard the thud of her fist hitting it. And they'd watched her walk away, without attempting to console her. Renee looked back over her shoulder, up at John, "Did she tell you about her childhood?"

"Hm." John gave a curt nod of his head, "Not too nice."  
"She seems to be struggling... emotionally," Renee thought aloud, "But with what, I don't know. I don't want to ask, either. It's none of my business."

"I can talk to her," John replied after a moment, "Although I don't know how much she'd tell me."

"It could be just about this whole ODST thing," she shrugged.

"I doubt it."

"Then, what?"

"I don't know," He was truthful as he heaved a big sigh. Making a face, he narrowed his eyes, "Do you want to head back to the meeting room?"

"Kind of," Renee replied, "I felt like a jerk just getting up and leaving like we did. If we do go back, I doubt the ODSTs will say anything to you. Buck doesn't seem like the type who'd want to get you in trouble... not like Troy was."

"I don't really want to talk about that," John met her eyes earnestly, "You can go ahead," he gestured off down the hallway, "I'll be not far behind you. I just need to calm down for a few more minutes."

"Ok," she replied.

--

When Renee arrived back at the meeting room, it was not as formally organized as before. A couple of the ODSTs were missing – probably off to get water or something. Lord Hood and Lieutenant Lyons were leaning together at the head of the table talking and consulting a data pad. Buck and Veronica were in a similar position, huddled close to each other and talking quietly. One ODST, the one called Rookie, was sitting almost nervously at the end of the table by himself. On the holo-panel at the front of the room – she hadn't noticed before, was an AI. Renee realized instantly that it must be Cortana. One thing though, was that Elsie was nowhere in sight. Her chair was empty.

No one seemed to really notice Renee as she walked in and retook her seat. She must have sat there for a good five minutes until Buck finally acknowledged her from across the table.

"Where's your buddies?" he asked.

"John's rejoining us in a few minutes," She replied plainly, "But Elsie, did you see her come in?"

"No." Buck shook his head.

Renee leaned back in her chair, puzzled. The last she'd seen of Elsie was her storming angrily down the hallway. She hoped that she hadn't gone off and done anything ridiculous.

---

John approached the showers ever so quietly. He made sure each footfall was as soft as he could make it – the only sound was the mournful sobs coming from the farthest bathroom stall. John, concerned, walked towards the source – but he didn't get very close, before the sobbing stopped. A single sniff, then silence. John stopped walking, and was about to speak, but Elsie bet him to the punch.

"Who's there!?" her voice was thick.

"Elsie?" John asked calmly, walking closer so he was standing just outside the stall. A foot suddenly shot out from beneath the door – as Elsie successfully kicked him in the shin. Cursing lowly, John backed up.

"Go away!" She shouted.

"Elsie," he remained calm, "What's wrong?"

"How'd you know I was here?" She ignored his question and asked her own fiercely. She sniffled, and there was a loud thud as she threw herself against the door to prevent him from trying to open it.

"That doesn't matter," John replied, "You can trust me, Elsie. What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong," she snapped, "Now I told you, get lost. If I wanted to talk, I'd talk. I haven't locked myself in here to attract an audience, you know. I want to be alone. Now _leave_!"

"You're in distress," he told her, "I'm not going to leave a fellow Spartan in distress."

There was silence from within the stall.

"I'm just another screwed up Spartan, who doesn't know how to handle emotions." Elsie finally answered, her voice wavering.

"Open the door, Elsie." He waited, but when she didn't reply, he tried again, "Open the door. That's an order."

There was silence for a few seconds, then John heard the clicking of the lock unlatching from inside. The door opened an inch, and he saw half of Elsie's face peering out at him. There were clear tear tracks glittering on her cheeks. She looked at him for a long while, before opening the door wider.

"I don't know what to do," she said in almost a whisper.

"About what?" John asked quietly.

"I don't know." She shook her head, leaning against the stall and closing her eyes, "I honestly don't know."

"Just... try to explain yourself the best you can, I know it may be difficult." John felt awkward, but in a way he knew he was probably doing Elsie a big favor. This friendly counselling reminded him of Dr. Halsey. She'd said almost the same words to him when he'd come to her with conflictions about his own feelings many years ago.

"I've been watching you... and Renee, and how you interact with each other," Elsie couldn't meet his eyes, "And how you two are so _happy_. I guess I'm envious, because, I don't think I've ever been truly happy." John watched her as she began to lose the composure she was trying so hard to keep, "I mean, you're so lucky!" She looked up to him, "So lucky. You're a Spartan just the same as me, yet you've done something no other has. You fell in love. Me, I'm just... lost. I've spent the last six months wandering lost, ever since the war ended, I didn't know what to do with myself. I mean what else is there for me to do!?" She wiped at her eyes, appearing to be furious for having them betray her by welling up with tears, "There's this mission now... but, it'll only last so long. They didn't count on us Spartan III's to live, that's what. I'm supposed to be dead. They send us on suicide missions... but now I've paid the price for having that extra will to survive. I don't have anyone to go to, anything to do, anyone to rely on..."

Elsie was truly lost in her rambling now. Once she opened her mouth, the truth just came spilling out. John could understand what she meant. Every word.

"Come here," he said quietly, and he pulled her into a hug. Instantly, he felt her stiffen at the foreign gesture. It took her a couple of seconds to realize it was a form of consoling, - and then she relaxed a little. Her arms wrapped unsurely around him as she returned the hug.

"Thanks," she whispered, "This is a hug, huh?"

"It's a hug." John nodded.

She leaned her head on his shoulder, letting out a big sigh.

"They make you feel _better_," she seemed surprised, and let out a little laugh.

"I know. And Elsie, I want you to know something. I'm glad that we met, because you can have me to rely on. Renee as well. You're not alone."

She looked up to him, giving him a faint smile.

"Thank you."

--

**A/N: **Surprise! I said in my blog that I probably wouldn't get this chapter up until February, but here it is. I've taken the opportunity the last few nights to work at this. I'm pretty satisfied with it. Hope you guys enjoy it as always – sorry for the longer wait though. And, just thought I'd mention: There's a very critical vote taking place in my profile relating to this story, so be sure to check it out and definitely leave your opinion. Help decide the near future of the story's plot! Until next time. - AB


	15. Progression and Decline

**Chapter 15: Progression and Decline**

** August 22nd, 2553**

Renee drummed her fingers against the glass table; sitting slouched in the comfortable chair. It was indeed possibly the most comfortable chair she'd sat in for a while, and it was enough to try and lull her tired and aching body to sleep. But she kept her eyes open, despite the hazy boredom that filled the meeting room. It had stayed the same since she had walked in: Lord Hood and Lyons talking between themselves, Buck and Veronica doing the same with their own soft spoken conversation, and the other ODSTs talking to each other, getting up, leaving, coming back with a cup of coffee or a snack from one of the vending machines. Like her, they looked restless, wanting something to happen.

Occasionally, Renee, as she glanced around at the other inhabitants, would make eye contact with one of them. It would usually last for a second or two before one of them looked away. No words were spoken, nor could any emotions be understood from the facial expressions.

Elsie still hadn't arrived, same with John.

She glanced irritably to the two empty seats beside her, then up at the clock on the wall. Time was wasting, and she didn't know where either of the Spartans could be. Elsie, she had been upset, so she was probably off by herself trying to let out some steam. But John, he'd said he would be right behind her. Ten minutes had gone by and John hadn't shown up.

Temptation to get up and find him entered her mind a few times, but she tried to reason with herself. John wasn't here, so he must have a good reason. There was something or someone keeping him from arriving, something that had come up. Nothing to worry about, Renee assured herself. It was a military base, there wouldn't be any dangers lurking around.

Thoughtfully, she reached up to touch her lip. The swelling had gone down a little, she realized. Pulling her fingers away, she examined them quickly to make sure touching it hadn't made it start to bleed again. When she looked up past her fingers, she saw Buck was looking at her. She instantly looked away.

This whole room was beginning to piss her off. Maybe it was just the ODSTs, or maybe it was her old marine attitude coming back. Everyone in the room was being irritably antisocial towards her. What was she, an alien? Even Lord Hood hadn't said anything to her when she'd walked in. Just trouble making Buck – and she decided that if he didn't shut his mouth, she'd be the one to punch him.

Staring at her hand, she slowly curled it into a fist, squeezing it tightly until her knuckles turned white. She wondered if she could find Bryce, maybe do some more target practice. Having the privilege to pump a target full of lead, maybe empty an entire clip into it, would be immensely satisfying at the moment.

Just then, a miracle happened.

"Well, since two of our personnel don't seem to be returning," Lord Hood spoke up, "There's no sense in making all of you wait here like this. The meeting is postponed to tomorrow. I'm well aware of the conflicts going on, and I'm going to give you all 24 hours to solve it. I don't want anyone storming out," he looked to Renee, "Be sure to tell the Spartans that."

She nodded calmly.

"So get back to your duties, you're dismissed," Lord Hood waved them out. There was a murmur of relief from everyone. Hood was surprisingly was the first to leave, gathering up his data pad and walking out. Lyons wasn't far behind him.

Letting out a deep sigh, Renee shoved back her chair. As she was trying to leave, the ODSTs cut in front of her, acting as if they didn't even know she was there. Feeling her anger build up as she stood by the doorway, watching as the ODSTs filed out of the room, Renee clenched her jaw. Buck looked at her as he walked out.

"That expression doesn't flatter you, ex-Corporal." He gave her a little smile, and reached out to pat her cheek, but she jerked away as if his hand was a hot poker.

"Have you not learned anything yet?" She hissed back. With a quick glance behind him, she saw Veronica had paused to wait for him. She had her hand outstretched, and was looking tempted to grab his arm.

"Your Spartans better watch themselves," Buck replied with a little smile, "I heard they were famous for their ability to control their emotions. I guess those two are dysfunctional."

"Watch what you're saying, Sergeant." Renee kept her voice low, "They're damn good at what they do, emotion or no emotion."

"Yeah, if you're the sadistic type, I suppose." Buck tapped at his lip.

"Stop it," She told him, "You don't know how I got this, but what you're assuming is wrong."

"Why won't you tell me?"

"You won't believe it, that's why."

"Go on, tell me."

"John and I hit heads. By accident," she could feel her adrenaline beginning to rise.

"Good one." Buck simply smiled.

"Oh yeah?" Renee raised an eyebrow, "I can do better. Fuck you."

Buck looked surprised, and theatrically hurt by her words. Letting out a little chuckle, he said,

"Now I know what Troy meant when he said you could be unnecessarily cruel."

"You don't know anything about that."

"I know enough," Buck looked confident, "I know that you shoved him aside for your Spartan fuck buddy..." he leaned in close to her, and whispered, "Just between you and me... next time you decide to do your cyborg, you ought to really consider keeping it down a little."

Renee was stunned into silence and embarrassment. Buck leaned back, a smile coming onto his face.

"Yes, John, oh yes." He imitated her in a girlish whisper.

She shoved him backwards against the door frame, not caring that Veronica was watching.

"You son of a bitch!"

She whirled away, storming from the room and hurrying down the hallway, tears of humiliation blurring her vision.

"Didn't hear you say that!" Buck called after her.

---

Renee arrived at the indoor target range, no one else was there. The bright over head lights shone down on the targets, some of them resembling humans, others resembling Elites, Grunts, Brutes and Jackals. They hadn't updated these yet, she realized. Bryce had only taken her to the outdoor target range, and Renee wasn't even sure that she was allowed in here without authorization.

She could walk right in, nothing stopped her, and so she quickly located the weapons cache. Her adrenaline was almost as high as her anger. She was furious, too angry to cry. Tears had threatened her when she'd been walking away from Buck, and only one had slipped down her cheek. The rest she'd forced back.

How dare he, how dare he. She picked out a battle rifle. How dare he, how dare he do such a thing! She grabbed a couple clips of ammo. Slapping one in, the click rung out in the empty room. A satisfying noise, but not nearly as satisfying as what was about to come.

Selecting the nearest human-shaped target, she raised the battle rifle, aligned her eye with the scope. Aiming carefully, to the middle of the target's head, she slowly curled her finger around the trigger. Slowly squeezing it, she whispered:

"This one's for you, fucker."

The first burst shot rang out, louder than she expected. Ba-ba-blam! Bulls-eye. The target's head was now littered with bullet holes. Satisfaction filled her, but it was like a drug, she wanted more. She pulled the trigger again, ba-ba-blam! Again. And again.

Now the target's head was a mess, it looked like Swiss cheese.

Aiming lower, she fired a shot into the target's chest. Lower still, she fired a shot to the groin. Renee couldn't help the smile that came on to her lips. Satisfaction was achieved; she felt a little better, a great weight dispelled from her chest. However, she still wasn't over the initial shock of the confrontation with Buck.

Just the thought of it made her feel humiliated and overwhelmed with the wish to crawl in a hole and stay there forever. Was Buck just lying about hearing her and John? Probably not, it would be taking a chance accusing someone of that unless you knew it was actually true.

Renee felt disgusted with herself. How long had Buck listened? Had he just walked by and happened to hear, smirk to himself and keep on going? Or did he pause for a few seconds to make sure that what he was hearing was what he thought it was? Either way, it made her sick.

Lowering the battle rifle, Renee walked over and grabbed one of the cleaning kits that were hanging off the wall. Sitting on a large weapon box, she began to disassemble and clean the gun.

She was just wiping down the outside of the barrel when she heard the doors hiss open. Looking up through her bangs, she expected it to be John or maybe Elsie, coming to look for her, but she was somewhat surprised when she saw it was Lieutenant Lyons.

"Kilburn," he said, approaching her, "What exactly are you doing?"

"I was blowing off some steam, sir," she replied, not looking up from her work, "I'll clean the gun, put it back where I found it, and pick up the shells. No one will know I was here."

"I know you're not inexperienced, but as a trainee you're not meant to be in here without supervision of your drill sergeant," Lyons told her.

"My apologies, sir," She replied, "Won't happen again."

"I'll stay here with you until you're done."

Renee nodded. There was silence for a few minutes as she continued to clean the weapon.

"What's causing you to feel you have the need to come in here and shoot up a target?" He finally asked.

"Not in the best mood, that's all, sir." She gave him a little smile, "I feel better now, though."

"You only used one clip I hope."

"Not even that, sir."

"Good," Lyons replied.

"I'm starting to improve," Renee informed him.

Lyons looked to the target, nodding.

"As I can see."

"I was always a good marksman," She said, "I'm getting better just in general. I'm starting to feel more like a marine again. I'm going to start gaining more control over my emotions... and not... act so, freely."

"Well, that's a good ambition to have," Lyons approved.

"Thank you, sir."

Renee finished cleaning her weapon, reassembled it, cleaned up the shells from the ground and left, Lyons behind her. As she walked out into the hallway, she saw far off, John coming in her direction. John... she didn't really want to talk to him. She felt a little grudge towards him, for not showing up like he said he would. If he had come when he said, that little confrontation with Buck probably wouldn't have happened. Besides, John would notice she was angry and demand what happened. And that was something she definitely didn't want to explain.

Quickly, she pretended she didn't see him.

"Lieutenant, sir," She said to Lyons, "Could mind telling me where the weight room is?"

"Down that hallway, and turn left," Lyons gestured off down the opposite hallway of John.

"Thank you."

When she reached the door entering the weight room, she paused. There were a couple of the ODSTs inside. Instantly, her desire to go in and work out changed. She turned around, hoping she could cut down an opposite hallway and avoid talking to John, but he was right there, having caught up with her effortlessly.

Renee made eye contact with him, but didn't say anything, keeping her face composed.

"Why did you walk away from me?" John asked, his voice low – his expression confused.

"I didn't see you."

"You looked right at me," he pushed.

"I'm not in the mood to see anyone right now," she replied simply, and tried to walk past him, but John's arm flew out in front of her, slamming against the wall and blocking her path. She tried to duck beneath it, but he pushed her back against the wall.

"What's wrong with you?" he asked.

"I'm not in a good mood," Renee shook her head, "Now let me go to my room."

"No. Not until you tell me what happened."

"Nothing happened, John." She tried to remain calm, but her patience was waning, "See? This is what I was trying to avoid."

"You're trying to avoid me," John didn't look pleased, "Why? What I did I do? What did you hear?"

"Where were you?" Renee demanded, "You said you'd be right behind me. But I sat in that meeting room for what must have been twenty minutes, and you never showed up."

"I was talking to Elsie."

"How did you know where she was? I got there and she wasn't there, although that's where she said she was going."

"I heard her."

"Heard her doing what?" Renee snapped.

"Crying," John answered simply, "I wasn't just going to pretend I didn't hear her. I went in to help."

"Most of the time, when we cry, we don't want anyone helping us. Most of the time, when we're in a bad mood, we don't want anyone asking us what's wrong, or what happened." Renee fixed him with a glare, "And I'm sorry John, but all I want to do is go to my room and be _alone_."

"Renee," he said tenderly, leaning in closer to her and trying to embrace her, "You know I'm here for you, you know I love you."

"No!" Renee cried, shimmying from his arms, "No, John. Can't you see? We can't be like this when we're on duty."

"Be like what?" John looked at her as if she was crazy, "I can't tell you that I love you?"

"Not just that, but... last night..." She said softly, feeling tears coming to her eyes, "I don't want to act like that. I don't want to be like that, I feel like... I'm some dirty whore," she watched John flinch at the word, "We can't be doing that. Not when we're here."

John wiped all traces of hurt from his face, nodding numbly.

"Ok." He said simply, "Fine."

They were silent for a moment.

"But," John began, seeming hesitant about what he was going to say, "You're the one who told me to lock the door."

"I was wrong!" Renee cried, "Ok? It's wrong. Everything about it was wrong. We can't be doing this. I mean, think, we didn't even use anything."

"It was wrong," John agreed quietly, his voice and expression seeming far off, "Ok."  
"Even the way we interact. It's non-professional."

"Are you sure that incident of us hitting heads didn't mess you up?" he asked, his voice still calm, but the words themselves were harsh, "Are you afraid of what those ODSTs might think? What they might say? Fuck them!"

When John finished the sentence, his voice was now as harsh as the words themselves, his expression angry, "But fine, sure. We can act professional. I'll show you professional. You want me to treat you like how I treat anyone else; sure, I can do that. No problem, Trainee."

John turned away from her and was gone before she could even object.

Renee stood there alone, slowly realizing what she might've just caused. She'd made an enemy with one of the only people she had to rely on. John, he was her lover, her boyfriend. And she'd just basically told him she didn't want to be on that level with him anymore.

Upon this realization, she panicked.

"John!" She cried frantically, her voice ringing out in the hallway, and she bolted forward, slid around the corner – but he was already gone. She had no idea where he could've gone. Panic was overwhelming her. She knew he must have heard her call him, but she waited a few seconds. He wasn't coming back.

"I'm so stupid," She whispered, "I'm so stupid, what have I done? No..." She began to walk in the direction he'd gone, but turned back around, realizing she couldn't catch up with him if he didn't want her to. Taking two fistfuls of her hair, she threw herself back against the wall and slid down it. Wrapping her arms around her knees and burying her face in them, she felt numb.

John had the uncanny habit of taking everything to heart, even after all this time of learning about jokes and teasing. Would he realize that she hadn't truly meant what she said? Would he forgive her? Would he even speak to her again?

Had she just lost him? She couldn't last without him. The whole reason why she was here was for John. To help him out. Now she'd just screwed herself over.

She heard footsteps approaching, calm steady footsteps, but didn't lift her head from her arms. The person rounded the corner, and she heard them stop. There was a few seconds of silence, where she knew they must just be standing there and looking at her.

The footsteps grew closer, and she sensed the person kneeling down beside her. She still didn't move. A quiet, gravelly voice addressed her.

"Are you okay, Corporal?"

She looked up, not recognizing the voice. But she recognized the face. He was one of the ODSTs. He had buzzed blonde hair, blue eyes, and an almost nervous looking expression. His face was rather square, although he had plumpness to his cheeks that gave away that he couldn't be any older than his twenties. He was sweaty; he must have come from the gym. Instantly, upon realizing he was an ODST, Renee wanted nothing to do with him. She didn't trust him.

"I'm fine." She replied, waiting for him to get up and continue on his way. But he didn't.

"You look upset." His voice was still quiet, it sounded like he hadn't spoken in a long time.

"Thanks for your concern, but, I'm fine." She didn't want any help from an ODST, no matter how kind they were towards her.

Wordlessly, he got to his feet, still looking at her. Then he looked back over his shoulder as he and Renee both heard more footsteps. More of the ODSTs, Renee thought. Quickly she got to her feet, hoping to be gone by the time they rounded the corner, but she was too late.

She saw two of them, just as burly as the first one.

"Well, Rookie, what have you found here?" The first one asked with a grin.

Rookie simply shrugged. Renee looked cautiously from him to the other two ODSTs. She recognized them; they were Dutch and Mickey as Buck had introduced them in the meeting room.

"Oh, I recognize you!" Mickey said to her, "You're the 'ex-Corporal'."

Renee nodded ever so slightly.

"What's the matter?" Dutch questioned, "You look really upset."

"Nothin'," She shrugged, cautious that they might mention something about her being with the Spartans.

"Yeah, I've heard that before," Dutch replied, "Don't feel like you have to keep something from us just 'cause we're ODSTs. We have no beef with marines. You guys are cool, nothing wrong with you at all, right Mickey, Rookie?"

The two nodded.

"But, you don't have to tell us what's up either," he continued, "However, there's no sense in denying you've got a chip on your shoulder. Anyone can look at you and tell you're royally pissed, even Rookie, though he doesn't say anything."

Renee looked to the Rookie. He'd talked to her. Rookie slowly shook his head at her, as if telling her not to say anything about him speaking. She looked back to Dutch and Mickey.

"Yeah I'm pissed." She admitted, "But it's none of your business why."

" 'Course it's not," Mickey shrugged, "We understand."

"Wanna come for a walk with us?" Dutch offered, "We're going to be working together for the next month or so, so we mind as well start getting along now. Lord Hood told us to, anyway."

"I guess." Renee answered numbly.

--

John found himself walking into the armory. It was much like the armory found on ships, however much larger and more well equipped. Brightly lit and smelling metallic, the room was mostly empty, except for a couple of technicians standing in front of large computers on the far side of the room. It branched off into other areas, probably storage.

He walked up to the two technicians, who were lowly discussing something to do with weapon programming. Not wanting to interrupt, John just stopped a few feet behind them and waited until they noticed his presence.

They turned around at almost the same time, and their expressions were typical as they looked up to him, trying to hold back from being surprised at his size. John knew he wasn't as pale as he had been before, since his short time living a civilian life out in the sun with...

He trailed off when he remembered her. Just thinking about her caused him pain. Focus, he told himself, this isn't the time to think about what had happened just minutes ago. An incident that didn't seem real, didn't make sense.

"Can we help you sir?" The first technician asked, a short, nervous looking man with curly hair and a pair of glasses. The other technician didn't seem as intimidated. He had a larger build, but a childish face with round cheeks and a pig-like nose.

"Do you have authorization to be in here?" The pig-nosed one demanded.

"Yes," John replied calmly, "I'm Master Chief Petty Officer John-117."

Upon his introduction, he watched as the men straightened with respect. The nervous one seemed to look even more so, but the other just changed his smug expression to one of mannerly casualty.

"Yes, sir, of course sir." The short technician cleared his throat, "It's an honor, sir, truly, we've heard a lot..." He stopped as the other technician elbowed him secretly in the ribs.

"Is there anything we can help you with, sir?" Pig-nose questioned more calmly.

"Yes," John gave a curt nod of his head, "I want to know about the Mark VI MJOLNIR armor that is contained in this facility, it was retrieved from a naval frigate a month or so back."

"Of course, sir," he replied.

"You'll be unable to wear it now, if that's what you want," The nervous one said, "It's currently being upgraded."

"Upgraded?" John echoed, curious, "Do you have any details on these said upgrades?"

"Technically, it's classified," The other technician replied, "We haven't received permission to disclose the information to anyone. Not even you, sir."

"Then who all knows about the upgrades?"

"Most of our technicians, higher ranking officials, Lord Hood..." the technician smiled, "But what I can tell you is, that your armor will be ready for testing within the week. We expect to finish the upgrades soon... everything new will be explained to you then."

John nodded, pressing his mouth into a tight line. He was attached tothe old armor. Besides being beat up, dented, scratched and abused, there was nothing wrong with it. He wasn't sure if he liked this whole idea of giving it upgrades. Would it be upgrades similar to those used in the Spartan III's armor? Or maybe Covenant technology?

"The most we can tell you is that these upgrades will increase your lethality, speed, reaction time and overall performance. And you will receive a new Spartan neural interface. It's built on the same base as the one you have currently, but has been tweaked to correspond with the upgrades to your armor."

All of this was being done without his input?

"When exactly was I going to be told about this?" John demanded.

"Well, I suppose when it was ready, sir."

John nodded simply, thanked them, and left. He went directly to Lord Hood's office. First he hadn't been told about the ODSTs until they were selected and set in stone, now this. On top of it all, he now was alone, aside from Elsie. Renee, she'd...

John didn't even bother to knock. He threw open the door and walked in. Lord Hood was at his desk. He took one look at John and knew that there was something wrong.

"My armor is being upgraded?" John questioned, his voice crisp.

"Yes," Lord Hood replied, remaining calm and seated. John knew that he knew that he was upset, but the fact that he didn't seem at all concerned grated at his nerves.

"How come I wasn't informed?"

"I was intending to inform you, John," Lord Hood folded his hands on his desk, "At the meeting you decided not to attend."

John fell silent, feeling instantly embarrassed. He straightened, remembering his place. Giving Lord Hood a salute, he apologized.

"I'm sorry, sir."

Lord Hood nodded in response.

"The meeting has been postponed until tomorrow at the same time. Now I don't know if Renee told you this or not, but tomorrow I do _not _want any conflicts whatsoever between you and the ODSTs. Not even so much as a glare, do you understand me?"

"Yes, sir."

"I'm well aware of the history between you and them. The incident when you were fourteen, I know about that. Let me tell you something John, although you probably already know this. Although this may not seem like a regular 'job', it is a job. You are paid to serve and protect Earth and her colonies. And in jobs, even ones like these, there will be people that we don't necessarily like or get along with. But you _have _to work with them, whether you like it or you don't."

"I understand, sir." John kept his face completely calm, "I can promise you that there will be no conflict between me and any of the ODSTs, unless they pose a threat to me... or Elsie," John thought of Renee, but he didn't mention her, "As Spartans, we..."

"Yes, I'm aware of all that." Lord Hood replied, "And I'm sure that Sergeant Buck will keep his ODSTs in line. He's good at what he does."

John didn't reply.

"Now, how did you find out about your armor upgrades?" Hood changed the subject.

"I went into the armory, sir, asked questions."

"Well, I'm overseeing the upgrades and I can assure you that your performance will only be enhanced," Lord Hood assured him, "Besides, your armor was practically scrap metal when we found it." He let out a little chuckle, "It needed more than just a paint job and a spit shine. Trust me on this, John. You won't be disappointed. We'll have it ready for you within the next few days. Until then, you can do your general physical training."

"Yes, sir," he answered, "Thank you."

John turned to leave, but paused, looking back over his shoulder.

"One more thing..."

"Yes?"

"Could I try my luck firing a weapon or two? It's been a while."

---

Renee was walking along with the ODSTs. The talk was small, casual. She didn't feel exactly warmed up to any of them yet, but they didn't seem to want to cause trouble. Surprisingly, they left all mention of Spartans out of the conversation, and for that she was grateful. Just the thought of something related to John made her feel a pang of guilt in her chest, and the dread well up inside of her all over again.

Rookie, despite having talked to her when he'd first came across her sitting in the hallway, didn't say anything. Dutch went on to explain that he had PTSD, and they'd never heard him speak once. Upon hearing this fact, she'd looked over to Rookie, knowing that he _could _talk, but he didn't meet her eyes. Well, at least now she understood why his voice had sounded the way it had. He probably hadn't spoken in a terribly long time. That made her wonder, though, why would he speak to her? He definitely didn't have to, she'd just been sitting there, upset and unwilling to even look up from her arms.

The fact that Dutch had said that Rookie had PTSD made Renee think of John. She felt bitter towards the subject, but realized that Rookie's PTSD must be worse than John's had ever been if he didn't even want to talk. She pitied him, and wondered what he must have gone through to make him that way.

As Renee listened to Mickey and Dutch talk, she got distracted by a great deal of racket coming from up ahead. As they drew nearer, Renee realized that it was coming from the target range, and the sound was the unmistakable bursts of an assault rifle. MA5C, to be exact.

"What in the hell?" Mickey remarked, as they came closer, "Someone's shooting up a storm."

"I just came from there," Renee replied, "Lieutenant Lyons kicked me out, telling me that I needed to be supervised because I'm a Trainee."

"Whoever's in there certainly isn't a Trainee." Dutch observed, as the shooting momentarily stopped. It started up again not one second later, "And they're damn fast at reloading."

"Shit," Mickey laughed in amazement. They'd stopped just in front of the door entering the room. Rookie had a rather unpleasant look on his face, like he didn't like the sound.

Renee, however, was suddenly realizing that there were only two people that could be in there, two people that were capable of reloading that quickly. Either it was Elsie, or it was John.

"Let's see who it is." Mickey said curiously, and he started for the door.

"No, don't!" Renee replied quickly.

The three ODSTs turned to look at her.

"Why?" Dutch made a face.

Renee said the first thing that came to her mind.

"It might be one of those Spartans," she replied, instantly feeling horrible, but they weren't listening to her. Mickey opened the door and went in, Dutch not far behind him. Rookie seemed hesitant, so Renee shot in after them, feeling dread welling up inside her.

Sure enough, it was John. He hadn't noticed them come in. He'd moved on to SMGs now, and they just watched as he emptied both clips into the target, and reloaded both of them in a flash. As he turned his head slightly to snatch up a clip, he noticed them there watching.

His head shot up, and Renee froze, watching John as he looked to Mickey, then Dutch, Rookie, and finally he rested his eyes on her. A look of betrayal almost flashed across his face, and Renee realized just then who exactly she was with. John's eyes darkened as he furrowed his brows, a truly intimidating gesture.

"I don't want an audience."

Mickey played it cool.

"We were just admiring your expertise," he replied calmly, "You can reload awfully fast."

John lowered the weapons to his sides, turning to face them completely. A little smirk came on his face, but it wasn't playful. His eyes were still daggers, windows into his soul, and within them there was nothing but anger. Renee felt dreadful, as she realized his expression was just as much for them as it was for her.

"You heard me; don't make me make it an order."

Renee was overwhelmed with the sudden desire for peace. She wanted no conflict. Pushing past Mickey and Dutch, she started desperately:

"John..." She barely got that out of her mouth when John took a step towards her, glowering down upon her. The look on his face made her lose concentration – but at least she got his attention. Behind her, she heard Mickey, Dutch and Rookie quietly leaving the room. She looked into John's eyes, trying to reach the John she knew, but he had completely shut her out. The look on his face was general, a look he would give someone he didn't know. It made her feel like an outsider. She remembered his words "I'll show you professional". It had been spur of the moment, she hadn't actually thought he'd act like he barely knew her. Now that she saw he was clearly making it a reality, she felt slightly panicked.

"I never meant..." she started in a small voice.

"Go." John said, taking another step towards her, forcing her back.

"We love each other," Renee made her last attempt; her voice was a whisper that only John could hear. She watched his face, looking for any signs of falter, but he wasn't allowing anything but anger to be portrayed on his face. His face that was so handsome, even in this state, Renee noted. She reached out towards him, grabbing his arms and looking pleadingly up at him, "John, I... didn't mean what I was saying."

John continued to look down at her as if she was someone he didn't know, and it hurt, oh how it hurt her. Wordlessly, John reached up and pried her hands from his arms, gentle as always, but there was fierceness in his movements.

"You were right," he said ever so quietly, "How we act is inappropriate. Now I gave you an order. Go off with your ODSTs. Go back to your room, or go find your D.I and continue your training. I don't want to see you right now."

"No," Renee stood her ground, "I'm not leaving."

"Go."

"No. I won't." She whispered, shaking her head, "Don't you understand? I'm trying to make things right."

"You made them wrong." John said, "You don't want me to love you. And I won't."

Renee stood on her tiptoes, and reached up around his neck in an attempt to kiss him, but he didn't bend his head. She tried to pull his head down, but it wouldn't budge. She gave up, but fiercely shoved him with all the strength she could muster. He barely moved. John didn't say anything, didn't do anything, and didn't move.

"Damn it!" She shouted at him, "I hate that goddamned expression of yours, that frown, you look so miserable. There's no reason for you to be! Don't you understand that I could tell you I hate you and that I never want to see you again, and I wouldn't mean a word of it? Do you want to know the truth? Why I'm so upset?"

John's expression softened ever so slightly, something other than anger seeping into his eyes. He didn't have to answer her.

"When you didn't come to the meeting, I got into a conversation with Buck. It probably wouldn't have ever happened if you were there, but the point is, he told me he _heard _us. Last night."

He still didn't say anything, but he narrowed his eyes slightly, his face looking like he'd just tasted something disgusting.

"Now don't you see why I said what I did." she trailed off, "I'm ashamed."

John didn't say anything as he scrunched up his face and turned to face the target, whipping up one of his SMGs. The gunshots filled the room until he emptied the clip. The silence, broken momentarily by the last couple of shells falling to the floor, stayed for a few seconds. John looked around again; setting down both of the SMGs. Renee glanced back over her shoulder and saw the ODSTs didn't wait around for her. They were gone. She looked back to John, making eye contact.

"I'm sorry." She said quietly.

"I'm going to have a little talk with Buck." John looked particularly delighted with the thought.

"Don't. It'll only cause more trouble," Renee sighed, "Please, there's enough going on right now."

John stared down his nose at her thoughtfully, and then let out a grunt.

"Help me clean up all these shells," he instructed.

Renee did as she was told, the both of them got to their knees and started picking them up. She wasn't sure if John was still angry with her, she wasn't even sure if he wanted her to be here with him. Glancing up at him without moving her head, Renee saw that his expression was rather calm, despite the fact that his eyebrows were scrunched together. His mouth was that typical straight, firm line. He looked up to her, one hand filled with bullet shells. Holding out his empty hand, he gestured to her handful of shells.

"Give them to me."

Renee did, and watched as John got up and disposed of them. She quietly got to her feet, not sure what to say. He came back. The two of them were silent, until John finally decided to make eye contact with her. At first it was brief and he looked away, but when their eyes met again it was stronger.

"I can understand your motive, your reason behind all of this," John spoke lowly, "But, you could've told me before, not waited long enough to let me become so confused. I didn't know what was wrong, what I did wrong. I can understand, and I'm no longer angry, but, I'm not in the best of moods right now. You'll understand if I want to be alone for the remainder of the day?"

Renee, despite feeling disappointed, she nodded.

"I will, yes."

"You did make a point, though," John put his hands in his pockets, "Amy's advice proved not to be best. Let's face it, us committing acts like that belongs home. Not here. We can still love each other and not have to be making love like a couple of teenagers. I'm not young anymore, neither are you, so, we should act responsible. Feel the love towards other, express it in mild ways only, and don't let it interfere with our job. Our job, which is becoming more apparent, is important. I'm going to be receiving my upgraded armor soon. Your training is going to become more intense. We don't know what we're going to be dealing with out there. We have to start preparing ourselves, physically and mentally for a serious mission."

"You're right." Renee agreed, "Though, it is going to be hard."

"I never said it was going to be easy," John gave her a tiny smile, "But, we can do it. We don't have to make out to insure our love stays strong. It's always going to be there."

Renee laughed quietly.

"Yeah, it is." She looked up at him.

"Just for the record," John leaned in close to her face – and let her close the gap. Their lips met in a gentle kiss. A few seconds passed, until John pulled back, "That'll keep us going for a while."

"Mhm."

"From here on out, it's time to kick ass."

"Kick ass." She laughed.

--

**A/N: **Took me a little longer than usual to write this. I just have to get back into the swing of things. Thanks everyone so far who's voted. Now I just have to decide what way I'm going to go. Hope you enjoy this one. - AB


	16. Mark VII

**Chapter 16**

** August 26****th****, 2553**

When John woke up at his usual time of 0600 hours, he felt particularly lazy for a few hazy moments and decided to not even move from his bed. The bed was usually uncomfortable, it had a habit of being on the lumpy side – but right at this moment it was soft and cozy. The mattress seemed to have enveloped itself around him and the blankets did the same. He didn't want to move, in case he'd disturb this perfection.

He opened his eyes and let them flutter closed again, but remained conscious. He momentarily wished Renee was there with him, but they hadn't slept together since the day they'd agreed to tone things down. Although they both knew it was possible for them to just sleep and not want to do anything else, they also knew it was unprofessional. And besides, who would believe that they were just sleeping and not anything else?

The meeting had gone by successfully a couple of days ago, and since then the ODSTs and the Spartans had kind of kept their distance. They co-operated politely long enough to listen to Lord Hood fill them in on important details and give them a schedule for the next week or so – and then went their separate ways.

Besides seeing one of the troopers in the hallways or in the gym, John hadn't interacted with them at all. He hadn't spoken a word to any one of them, even Buck, who's neck he still wouldn't mind wringing. He kept his relations with Elsie and Renee. He treated the two women the same. In the past few days he hadn't even held Renee's hand. They didn't see each other off to their rooms at night, or meet in the morning. They ate their meals together in the mess hall, went to the gym when there was time, but other than that they were busy with their own things to do.

Renee was still working with Bryce, and John had noticed a big improvement in both her physical appearance and her overall attitude. He was watching her morph back into the marine he'd fallen in love with eighteen years ago. Her muscles were being rebuilt. She could now do fifteen push-ups and fifteen sit ups without any help. She could run the couple of miles in the morning before breakfast without stopping – which she was probably doing right now, John thought. Over all, Renee was becoming much better, and well on her way to being fully reinstated as Corporal.

Elsie didn't have a drill instructor to keep her busy, and John noticed that she was acting somewhat bored of waiting. He knew she was more than ready to go on this mission, but everything else wasn't. She spent most of her time in the gym, lifting weights for hours without stop. John would sometimes accompany her. Since her whole breakdown days ago, Elsie seemed to be better. She must have gotten a huge weight off her chest, John realized. Probably a whole lifetime of things had been let go when she cried – she'd told him that that was the first time she'd cried since she was little, and that was during the recovery from the augmentations. Elsie had no time throughout her life to be able to cry. As a Spartan III she'd been almost constantly sent out on missions that bordered the suicidal status. There was no time for anything but doing her job.

John let out a sigh, and decided it was definitely time to get out of bed. He rolled over, and just like that, the magical link between him and the bed was broken. The mattress went back to its lumpy state almost on purpose, and the blankets didn't seem as warm anymore.

As he sat up and rubbed the sleep from his eyes, it occurred to him what day this was. August 26th, well of course he knew that, but, remembering back to the meeting with Lord Hood, today was the day he was going to receive his upgraded neural interface and armor – and as well, for the first time in a long time, get to work with Cortana.

Instantly, his motivation to get up was increased, and he was dressed in under a minute. He had been curious about the upgrades ever since he'd found out about them. At the same time, he was sceptical. It seemed hard to believe that they could make his armor any better than it was without decreasing the effect of something. However, Lord Hood has assured him that he wouldn't be disappointed with the improvements, so John mentally decided he would trust him as best as his conscience would allow.

After getting dressed and taking a quick shower, John made his way to the mess hall. When he entered, the room's atmosphere seemed lazy, just like he had been this morning. There weren't too many people around. The ODSTs were at their own table of course, in the back left hand corner of the room, but even they didn't look very energetic. But John only spared them the glance they deserved and turned his attentions to getting his breakfast. Just as John was contemplating getting himself a tray and going along the line and getting himself a little bit of everything, he realized he wasn't very hungry; his stomach seemed to have tied itself into a knot.

So, John walked over to his usual table which was empty, and sat down. He looked at the fresh bowl of fruit that had been set in the middle of the table, and decided to take an orange. That would be his breakfast – it was all he could handle.

John peeled the orange awkwardly; he had only had this type of fruit a couple of times in his life. As he was peeling apart the separate slices, one vicious piece decided to squirt him in the eye. Letting out a grunt and dropping the orange, he went to wipe at his eye that was now burning in protest.

"If you're not getting bothered by ODSTs, you're getting bothered by oranges?" He heard Elsie's voice. He watched through his one eye as Elsie sat down across from him, looking particularly cheerful. John continued to rub at his eye, making a face.

"I guess so," he answered. Elsie let out a little chuckle and folded her arms on the table. John decided he'd rubbed his eye enough, and snatched up the piece of orange that had inflicted the damage to him, and got his revenge by eating it.

"You're not too hungry, then, I take it, if you're resorting to those complicated contraptions." Elsie observed. John nodded in response, ate another piece and said:

"Too busy."

"Too busy to eat?" Elsie asked, grabbing an apple from the bowl and biting into it, "How can you be too busy to eat, doesn't look like you're doing much of anything. I know there's not enough at this place to keep me busy. The gym's getting a little repetitive."

"I'm getting my armor today, don't you remember?" John asked, "You are too."

"Oh, that's right!" Elsie grinned, "Guess I was too enveloped in my own boredom to think about the little things ahead. Just keep thinking about the day we ship out. You're lucky though," she frowned, "They're just gonna hand me back my old hunk of junk, but you mind as well be getting a brand new suit."

"Hm." John furrowed his brows contemplatively, "I just hope I don't have to re-learn too much."

"It's going to be good to be back in our skin though." Elsie examined the apple in her hand, twirling it around as if it was something she hadn't seen before, "I'm becoming too used to being without it."

"Yeah," he agreed, "Me too."  
Suddenly, he and Elsie both startled, when a body half landed on their table. It took them a moment to who it really was. John almost laughed when he realized it was Renee. Her face was red from exertion, sweat had pasted her hair to her face, but she didn't say anything, as she struggled to roll up her sleeve.

"Look." She panted, leaning heavily over the table as she rolled the sleeve up to her shoulder. Flexing her bicep, she gestured towards it, "Feel that."

"Good morning to you too," Elsie grinned, but she reached out and gave Renee's muscle a squeeze, "Not bad at all!" Renee bathed in the glory, and looked to John.

"You too!" she beamed.

John chuckled and did the same as Elsie.

"Good job Trainee," he gave her a little smirk, "Now, just keep it up for another few days and it might be acceptable."

"Hah!" Renee laughed, giving him a shove, "Yeah, right." She quickly hurried around to sit beside him at the table. Taking a few seconds to breathe properly, she then began again:

"Even Bryce was surprised! Well, I mean, I was too once I realized the difference. She says that it's because I had already built my muscles before, and it didn't take as much this time around to build them up again." She touched her stomach, "My abs are kinda coming through, now, too!"

"Well, congratulations," John replied, amused.

"Thank you," Renee beamed. She was in an amazingly good mood, John realized. Her happiness was contagious, and he could instantly feel himself starting to feel happier just because she was. It was not like Renee to be so rambunctious, it was more of an Amy trait – but when Renee had her moments, they were usually fun to watch.

"God, I'm starving!" she exclaimed, and looked at the two Spartans with their small breakfast choices, "What, are you guys going on a diet or what? Fruit? It hardly fills you." Renee shot up from the table, saying quickly as she hurried off, "I'm getting some real food. Be right back."

Elsie let out a chuckle, watching after her. John shook his head.

"Quite a unique person," she remarked.

"She is," he agreed, "I haven't seen her like this in a while."

"The Trainee has every right to be excited," Elsie shrugged, "Do you remember when you first started developing your biceps?"

"Hardly."

"Well, being a girl, it's quite an accomplishment when we build our muscles," Elsie informed him, "Since women aren't nearly as strong as men... me being an exception unfortunately. There's no such thing as a weak Spartan."

John suddenly jumped when he felt something warm bump against his foot. He quickly pushed back the chair, him and Elsie both looking beneath the table at the same time. John saw it was an animal – a cat to be exact, with fluffy grey fur and big yellow eyes. He glanced to Elsie beneath the table and she looked almost astonished, then he looked back to the cat, which sat back on its haunches and stared intently at him.

"What the..."

Suddenly, a round of laughter erupted from the ODST's table.

The two Spartans looked over to their table, and saw they were all quite in a riot. John realized that this must be a joke of some sort. He'd only seen cats a couple of times in his life, but he knew one didn't belong here at all. Where had it come from?

Mickey jumped up from his table and hurried over to theirs.

"I see you've met Brute," he said.

"Brute?" Elsie echoed.

"That's not funny." John frowned.

"Chill out, you two!" Mickey made a face, walking around to the other side of the table and dropped to his knees to coax Brute out from beneath the table. Letting out a meow, Brute came out and rubbed against Mickey's leg affectionately, before Mickey scooped him up into his arms, "He's a big sook, aren't you Brute?"

Brute began to purr loudly as Mickey rubbed his stomach.

John and Elsie once again exchanged confused glances.

"We found him this morning," Mickey explained, "Roaming around outside. Not sure how he got into the base. We assume no one owns him, put out a notice, but if no one claims him before we go off on the mission, he's ours. Meet our mission mascot!"

"You can't take a cat on a UNSC mission," John looked at him as if he was stupid.

"That means more provisions," Elsie added, "Stuff we don't need. Cat food, litter box. Think about it."

"I'll be able to sway 'em," Mickey remained confident, ignoring the Spartans' negative comments, "Don't worry. If we all have to chip in and buy those things, we will. Brute is going to be our good luck charm."

"I'm not chipping in anything," Elsie frowned, twirling the apple in her hands, seeming annoyed with Mickey's presence, "Get real, Private."

"Hard to believe anything with the name of 'Brute' could be good luck," John said lowly. That's when Renee returned. She spotted the cat almost instantly, and almost threw down her tray of food onto the table to rush over to Mickey.

"A cat!" she exclaimed, seeming excited, "Oh, he's so cute!" she reached out and began rubbing Brute beneath the chin, "What's this story, now, Mick?"

As Mickey filled her in on the details, John frowned, turning his eyes away from the scene. Staring a burning hole into his orange, he felt frustration going through him. He didn't like how Renee was so friendly to the ODSTs. Calling Mickey by a nickname, even. He glanced up to Elsie, and saw she was looking cautiously at them, her blue eyes narrowed with equal disapproval.

"How are you going to try and persuade them to let us take a cat with us?" Renee seemed sceptical, although she continued to pat Brute gently.

"Haven't quite figured it out yet," Mickey shrugged, "But, if no one claims him, he's comin' with us. I won't have it any other way. He's a cute little guy, and I have a feeling he's going to bring us all the luck we will ever need."

"Mickey!" it was the voice that made Renee and the Spartans cringe. Renee looked up from patting Brute to see Buck was walking over to their table. Instantly, she felt herself redden with embarrassment, and stepped back from Mickey and the cat.

_Stand your ground_, a voice in her head told her, _Buck's not better than you. Don't let him think he is._

Renee glanced down to John, and saw he didn't look to happy at the visitor either. She studied his poker face for a moment, before deciding to mimic it for herself. She wiped all expression from her face, heaved a big sigh and stood straight.

"Yeah, Gunny?" Mickey replied.

"Get back over here," Buck stopped about halfway between the two tables, and didn't look intent on coming any closer. His expression was rather impatient as he gestured over his shoulder with his thumb, "Come on. Bring the cat with you."

Mickey nodded, and muttered a "See ya later" to the three of them before making his way back over to the table. Renee watched as Buck turned his back from them, threw his arm around Mickey's shoulders and pulled him close for a second, muttering what looked to be harsh words. Completing his mini-lecture with a glance back in their direction, Buck took his seat beside Veronica. Mickey, looking somewhat confused, sat back down with Brute in comfortably in his arms.

Renee wordlessly took her seat beside John, and turned her attention back to her tray loaded with a decent breakfast.

"He kept his distance," Elsie remarked, glancing momentarily back at the ODSTs table. By "he" she meant Buck. John nodded in concentrated agreement. He chewed thoughtfully on the last piece of his orange. Elsie didn't know about what Buck has said to Renee, and neither of them intended on it. As far as she knew, Buck was just an enemy of sorts because of the incident outside, when John had almost clobbered him. The other incident went on unknown, and in John and Renee's mind, something they wanted to forget. It bothered Renee more than it did John, for she had been the one Buck had spoke to, but John too was angered by the thought of it.

"Good for him," John muttered quietly, his voice bitter, "He knows better than to come within an arm's reach of me."

"John," Renee said softly, giving him a scolding look.

"No, don't John me," was his reply, glaring at her with narrowed eyes, "I'm allowed to hate him. I'm allowed to wish I could break his neck if I could get away with it."

Renee stabbed at her food on her plate, keeping her eyes down.

"This isn't you talking." She said calmly.

John looked up to Elsie, who was clearly trying to pretend she didn't hear what they were saying. He could tell this was making her feel awkward. Feeling his anger spike, John reached over and grabbed Renee's hand roughly. Leaning in and lowering his voice, he whispered in an icy tone:

"I'm not getting into this."

Renee jerked her hand from his grasp, giving him an equally icy glare. She slid her tray down the table and moved to the next chair away. Elsie watched the unfolding scene inconspicuously through her bangs, keeping her head lowered as she nibbled on her apple. She watched John's face transform into one of anger upon Renee's action.

"Alright," Renee said, her voice on a higher pitch than usual, "Didn't you say you were getting your armor today?" Despite her talking to him, she kept her eyes down. Her cheeks were pink with agitation.

John waited a couple of seconds before responding. When he did, he seemed to have better control over his emotions than initially.

"Yes."

"That's interesting," Renee continued in her sudden, nonchalant way, "It will be different to see you in your armor once again. You said they changed it somehow?" She still hadn't made eye contact with him. The crisp way she was speaking reminded Elsie of a conversation that would happen between people who didn't know each other very well.

"Yes," John answered once again, "I don't know exactly what they did. I just hope it's nothing they'll regret."

"Have faith in them," she said quickly, "They aren't called technicians for nothing, you know."

"I _know_." He answered flatly.

"What do you think, Elsie?" Renee asked, looking up at her.

"I'm not sure if they're doing anything to my armor," she shrugged, "My guess is probably not. It wasn't in nearly as bad of a state as John's."

Renee nodded in response, and was silent for the next while, not even sparing John a single glance. Elsie could tell that John was upset by this; he knew that she wasn't going to look at him. John was incredibly frustrated, to be exact. In his mind, he hadn't done a thing wrong. Why Renee didn't like him verbally expressing his desires to somehow harm Buck made him wonder. It's not like he would actually go through with any act of violence – it would be a waste of time. It was something Renee should realize, but no, she was angry at him once again. A thought made him cringe – maybe she'd grown to be nice to Buck as nice as she was towards the other ODSTs?

He wanted to confront her, but he knew that would only make things worse. John felt bitterly agitated, and suddenly found himself looking more forward to receiving the new neural interface and armor. It would give him a chance to get his mind off this.

He'd first began to suspect this a couple of days ago, and then it was only a theory – but now it was becoming more apparent. Ever since he and Renee had stopped showing affection to one another, their relationship had made an immediate decline. They hadn't even held hands, let alone kissed.

John decided to ask a question of her.

"Are you free this afternoon?" he questioned.

"I have physical practice," Renee bit her lip, and made eye contact with him, "Why?"

"I figured you might want to be there with me," John kept his voice soft, "When I receive my new armor. I know I want you there."

Renee's face was surprisingly unreadable, her expression blank as she looked at him. She shrugged.

"I suppose I could talk to Bryce, see what she says," she answered, her voice coming out calmly. Slowly, emotion came to her face, and she gave him a tiny smile.

"Alright."

That was the end of the conversation between the two of them. Renee quickly finished her breakfast, and she said her 'See you laters'

"If I'm there I'm there. If I'm not, I'm not," Renee told John simply, "It's not up to me."

Then she left.

Elsie heaved a big sigh, folding her hands on the table and looking at John thoughtfully with pursed lips. Raising an eyebrow, she speculated:

"I admire your determination to be professional," she told John, "But truthfully, I think it's making things worse instead of making things better. Renee's becoming tougher with each day. She's having the civilian punched out of her and the UNSC marine put into its place, but, there's no rule that says marines can't have a love life."

John narrowed his eyes thoughtfully, and nodded.

"Look at it like using a weapon with a silencer," Elsie shrugged, "The same amount of bullets are fired, and they still have the same amount of firepower, it's just a stealthier approach."

He gave her a little smile.

"Thank you, Elsie."

--

John walked into the armory, perfectly composed. Instantly, he was greeted by Lord Hood, and several technicians waiting for him. He was able to sense their anticipation as soon as he entered the room, which gave him the opinion that his new armor would be something good. If they were expecting it to be anything but, he would've seen the nervousness on their faces. However, there was none.

That's when he noticed Renee was there too, sitting calmly on a large weapons box, shoulders hunched. Despite her overall indifferent attitude, when she met his eyes she gave him a little smile and wave. He wanted to go over and talk to her, but he knew Lord Hood would want to get started right away.

"Are you ready for this?" Hood asked of him.

John looked to him and nodded confidently, giving him a little salute.

"Green, sir."

"Good, now follow me to the adjacent room, we'll start off by replacing your neural interface." Lord Hood said as he led the way, "Now, as you may already know, replacing an interface can only be done with surgery. However, it isn't very complicated. It should take no more than a few minutes, and you don't necessarily have to be put under."

"I'll stay awake, sir," John replied.

"Very well."

John glanced to his side and saw Renee had caught up with him. Meeting his eyes, she gave him a little punch to the arm, although she had a nervous smile on her face.

"You can do it," she whispered, winking.

It was the same as when he'd first received his Spartan interface. John was required to remove his clothes, put on a paper gown, but only this time, they made him lay on a table on his stomach and turn his head so he had his cheek on the pillow.

"Now, this will no doubt feel different," he heard Lord Hood's voice, but couldn't see him. He must be standing behind to observe the replacement, "They're going to freeze your neck, then make an incision, remove your previous interface and replace it with a new one. During this process you might feel faint, even nauseous. There might be tingling in your limbs, or blurred vision."

John nodded in response. He could see Renee, standing on the far side of the room, hugging herself. The technicians quickly put on surgical gloves and masks. He looked to Renee, and gave her a little smile. She returned it.

John felt one of the technicians swab the back of his neck with a cool liquid that almost instantly had a numbing effect. Slowly but surely, he lost all feeling from the back of his head down to the nape of his neck.

"Can you feel this?" one of the technicians asked. John guessed he must be touching his neck. He felt a faint little something, as light as a feather.

"Just a little," John answered.

"That's what we want," the technician replied.

John then felt something brush against his neck horizontally, and then he realized it was the scalpel. Then he felt them chipping at the back of his skull. A dull clunking noise echoed from inside his head. John saw Renee was looking at the floor, shielding her eyes.

"They're removing your neural interface now," he heard Lord Hood say, "Just be still."

Then John heard a cracking sound, and his vision doubled – he saw two Renee's standing by the wall. John's stomach flipped, but he remained calm. He heard the sound of someone dropping something metal onto a tray. He guessed that must be his neural interface. He instantly felt different, like Lord Hood said.

"How are you doing, John?"

"Good." He replied lowly.

"Good. We're now going to put in your new neural interface, which is much like your last one. AI compatible, only it has been tweaked to work better with the new armor."

John felt them doing more digging at the back of his neck, and all of sudden, he heard a clunking noise, and his vision flashed to white. His body momentarily convulsed as he felt what seemed to be an electric shock shoot through him. John sucked in a breath of air, this hadn't happened with the last one.

He looked to Renee again, who looked scared. John realized, it wasn't just his neck he couldn't feel anymore. He'd gone entirely numb, his hearing seemed echoed. John opened his mouth to gasp in another breath of air, as his vision blurred into a crazy array of electric colors. He heard Lord Hood asking him if he was alright, but everything went black.

--

John's eyes shot open, and he gasped in a breath of air, and found himself lying on his back on that same table, dressed in the little skimpy gown. He saw Lord Hood and a couple of the technicians leaning over him. One of the technicians snapped their fingers on each side of his head, testing his hearing. He could hear perfectly. John looked at each one of their faces.

"Stay calm John," Lord Hood said, "You momentarily blacked out. You have been only out for a few minutes. Now tell me, are you alright?"

"Yes," John nodded. Once again, he could see without a problem, he could feel his body, he could hear and talk. He tried to sit up, but they gently pushed him back down.

"Just rest for a few minutes," Hood instructed, "You'll be fine, John. There was actually a small chance that you would black out."

"What the hell did you put in me?" John chuckled, a smirk coming to his face, but he lay still on the table, "I'm trusting you with this, sir. You mess up the Master Chief, we're all done for."

Lord Hood chuckled heartily.

"You won't have to worry," he clapped him gently on the shoulder, "Nothing is going to be messed up."

John nodded, muttering "Good" under his breath. He lifted his head up slightly, and saw Renee was standing at the foot of his table, trying not to look worried. Her nose was slightly red, and he knew instantly he must have scared her to the point of almost crying by blacking out. Of course though, Renee would have held back her tears. Marines didn't cry, and she was going strictly by that stereotype now.

"Hey you," John gave her a warm little smile, "I'm okay."

"I know," Renee nodded, letting out a big sigh.

Lord Hood, sensing that they might want to be alone, said to John:

"When you're ready, join us in the next room, ok?" He questioned, "Don't bother changing back into your uniform; you'll only need to take it off again to don your armor."

"Yes, sir."

Hood and the technicians left the room without another word. Renee and John watched them leave, and Renee slowly walked around to the side of the table, observing John in his state.

"You scared me," she admitted.

"I didn't mean to," he replied, reaching out and taking her hand, "Do me a favor, try not to worry so much about me, alright? I've been through worse. Thankfully you weren't there to witness them."

"Easier said than done."

"Bryce let you come after all."

Renee nodded.

"Where's Elsie? I thought she would be here too," she observed.

"She had some things to do," John replied, "She said she'll be here later, when I get to test out my armor."

"I saw your armor," Renee smiled, "Lord Hood showed me, he said not to tell you any details though."

"Is it different?" he demanded instantly.

"That would be a detail."

John chuckled, and he sat up slowly. He momentarily felt an ache in the back of his head, but then it disappeared. Shaking it off, he jumped off the table onto his feet. Renee watched him almost sceptically, looking ready to jump forward to try and catch him if he fell – despite that being an impossible feat.

Seeing her concern, John gave her a quick thumbs up,

"I'm good," he told her, "Aside from wearing this little..." he looked down at himself, shaking his head in disapproval, "It's not exactly a masculine item, that's for certain."

"Hope it's not punching too big of a hole in your manly ego," Renee gave him a little shove as she turned and headed for the door, "You'll live."

"Your insensitivity is beginning to make me question what exactly they're doing to you," John joked as he followed her, "I can understand making you tough, but, I still want to be able to get through to you. The whole marine bad-ass thing doesn't exactly compliment you, you know."

"No?" Renee paused by the door, giving him an incredulous look, "I like it. I don't feel so helpless."

"You never were helpless," John replied softly.

Renee shook her head.

"I was, John," she shrugged, "But now I'm not. However, if you want me to soften up a little for you, I suppose it can be arranged."

"It better be. You don't want me to start giving orders."

She smiled widely, her brown eyes filling with a saucy emotion.

"Will this do?" she questioned, and John knew exactly what she was going to do. He met her halfway in a rather heated kiss. It lasted for a few seconds, until Renee pulled away and opened the door.

"Come on," she said, completely composed in just a few seconds, acting as if it hadn't even happened, "Don't keep 'em waiting, Master Chief."

--

John stared in awe at the new armor, lying disassembled on the table before him. It was the same make as his previous armor, although he couldn't tell that it had once been the same armor he'd fought so many battles with. All the scratches, dents, and scuffs were gone. The olive green armor plating seemed to almost shine, the helmet, with its brand new mirrored orange visor, looked new. He could see his reflection plain as day.

He was speechless for a moment, as he ran his hands across the chest plate, which was of a slightly different design and shape. It was larger, to cover more of him. He recalled his old one, how it had looked after the war had ended. There was a major difference.

"You're looking at the Mark VII MJOLNIR armor. Let me explain some details to you," Lord Hood explained, "Before you try it on. As you can see, several armored pieces have been remodelled to cover more of your body and offer more protection. Over all, these plates are thicker than before, which allows you to go up against stronger impacts with less of a chance of causing physical harm to you. We haven't changed the chemical compounds; it's still the same titanium alloy, and the black matte alloy weave suit. This means it's tough, but not totally impenetrable. However, adding the extra thickness means it can stop rounds up to 30 calibers."

John nodded. So far, he was impressed. He glanced to Renee, and saw she looked to be as well.

"Now, we've improved the armor shields," Lord Hood continued, "They recharge faster than before, and are capable of being able to take three direct plasma shots or a hundred rounds from a standard MA5B before draining completely. It's much the same as before, you will be able to lower the levels of the shield on certain parts of your body, such as your hands and feet. As well, this armor will speed up your reaction time by several milliseconds. The new interface you received works directly with your mind, body and your armor – almost making them one. You will be able to move incredibly fast, inhuman speeds. We estimate that, using your full power, you will be able to run up to speeds of sixty-five miles per hour, jump up to heights of ten feet, and have reaction times faster than that of anyone alive."

"That's something," John remarked quietly.

"Indeed." Lord Hood replied, "We've also tweaked the helmet's HUD. The motion tracker can now be able to detect enemy and friendly movement up to a mile away. It has settings, so you can choose how far away you want to see. As well, it is able to map the area, giving you an aerial view of the area you are in. It will show you symbolically buildings, hills, rivers, lakes, trees, mountains, rocks, caves, pathways, roads, vehicles..."

John let out a low whistle.

"This mission has just got a whole lot easier," he remarked, and this roused a chuckle or two from the technicians and Lord Hood.

"And last but not least," Hood explained, "This armor is equipped with invisibility cloaking, just like that of the Elites and Brutes, developed directly from Covenant technology. When activated, it can last up to a half hour – then takes ten minutes to rebuild up again. You have to be extra cautious, however, for when you turn on the cloaking, it lowers your shield's power almost by fifty percent – which means..."

"I have less protection against weaponry," John answered, furrowing his brows.

"Exactly," Lord Hood nodded, "If you happen to be spotted, and are fired upon, the cloaking will immediately fade. Now there's a transition time switching between your invisibility cloaking and your regular shields, which means you will have a few treacherous seconds where your shields are charging back to their original power, and at this point, they will not offer much protection. And without your shields, your armor can not withstand much. Remember your Mark IV armor?"

"Yes," John replied. He had had the Mark IV when he had known Renee. That armor had had no shields whatsoever. He hadn't been able to afford taking a plasma shot then. It would have melted right through the armor.

"It would be almost equivalent to the Mark IV," he said, "But I know you're cautious, John. You're the best soldier we have, and no one expects you to fail."

"I don't know failure, sir," John replied with a salute, his voice loud with authority, "Winning is my profession. I will not settle for anything less, sir!"

"Good." Lord Hood seemed pleased.

John glanced to Renee, and saw her watching him with obvious admiration. The little smile that was present on her lips clearly gave it away. He quickly gave her a wink, and was sure that no one else but her saw it. She returned it in the same discreet manner.

"Well," John looked at the armor with anticipation, "May I try it on, sir?"

--

John went to the adjacent room and stood still as the technicians helped him put on the armor. He noticed right away the gel layer was more comfortable, but the green armor plating – as it they put it on piece by piece, was heavier than before. Nothing he couldn't handle, of course, but there was a noticeable difference.

It took longer to put it on than the other armor had, mostly because the technicians explained things as they put it together – as well as showed him if he had to do it by himself. Putting the armor on without help was close to impossible, but John was capable to do it if he really had to, but usually he needed a minimum of two technicians there to help him.

Finally, the technicians stepped back to look at him. There was one piece left, his helmet.

"How do you feel?" one of the technicians asked, "Everything good? Nothing uncomfortable?"

"It's good," John nodded, reaching out to accept the helmet as they passed it to him. He walked out into the other room holding the helmet. Instantly, any conversation that was going on stopped and all eyes were on him. Pausing for a moment, John put the helmet on, his suit pressurising.

Renee couldn't look away from John; it had been so long since she had seen him in person, wearing the armor. It was different from the armor he had had in 2535 – but it still had the menacing effect. He now stood at roughly 7 feet tall, and the armor only made his already large frame look larger. The armor, in a way was attractive, for it was so shiny and new. Not a scratch was on it. His mirrored visor, a deep orange and yellow in this light, did its usual job. One looking into his visor would see nothing but themselves. As weird as it looked to see John in the armor, it also looked very normal.

Inside the helmet, John looked out as he saw his HUD come alive.

"I see what you mean with the motion tracker," he muttered, his voice deeper from within the helmet. He saw several yellow blips, as well as an aerial map of the room – he could see the walls, the doorways, and larger objects.

"You look good, John," Renee was the first to compliment. Everyone else in the room was quick to follow her, saying things along the same line.

"Do you feel comfortable?" Lord Hood questioned.

"It's like..." John said, swiping his arm in front of his chest. The movement was quick, fluid and graceful, and he was sort of amazed, "I'm not even..." he threw a punch at the air, "Wearing anything."

Lord Hood let out a chuckle.

"Now, we're going to have to charge your shields, and the invisibility cloaking. You know the drill."

"Got it," John answered.

Renee watched as John crossed the room, his boots clunking against the floor. He stood in the shield charging machine, and she watched with amazement as the machine began to spin around him, and what looked to be an electric, sparking tornado enveloped him from the feet up. For a moment, his entire armor glimmered, then with a bleeping noise, the machine drained the shields. They glimmered viciously and disappeared – only to recharge not even five seconds later.

"Fast, isn't it?" Lord Hood said.

"Is it ever," John replied, touching his arm to make sure the shields were still activated. He stepped out of the machine, and looked around the room. Renee looked into the visor, not sure who he was looking at. It must have been her, so he took a step forward and extended his arm. She looked at him unsurely. His voice from behind the visor said, "My armor didn't have shields in 2535. Touch my arm."

"Are you sure?" Renee asked, unsurely, "I won't get shocked or anything?"

"Just do it," he said quietly.

Renee went to touch his arm, but her hand didn't get that far. Her hand was repelled – the area she tried to touch flickered, and her hand hovered against it. She tried to push her hand against the shields, but it didn't work. Laughing slightly, she said:

"That's really neat." She looked up to Lord Hood, and asked jokingly, "When are the marines going to get cool stuff like this, sir?"

"Not for a while at least, unfortunately," He replied.

Renee looked back to John – into the faceless visor. She saw her reflection staring back at her – but then, all of a sudden, he flickered and disappeared. She let out a little gasp, and could only see a faint, clear blur.

"He figured out the invisibility," Lord Hood observed.

"Wow," Renee shook her head, looking around the room, "Where did he..." She suddenly let out a shriek, and was picked up off the floor. Lord Hood and the technicians began to laugh, as John reappeared, his arms wrapped around Renee's middle, holding her a couple of feet off the floor.

Renee laughed, struggling against him.

"You're making me look helpless," she said with a laugh, "Put me down."

John did as he was told, setting her down gently, but he still kept his arms around her, making sure his grip was as gentle as possible. Renee leaned back against his body, allowing his shields to keep her up. She could feel them sparking against her back in protest, but John didn't seem to mind.

"I'm going to like the invisibility," John remarked.

"I figured you would," Lord Hood replied, "It's truly a breakthrough – but it wouldn't be possible without the harvested Covenant technology. There may be minor glitches, but as far as we know, it will work. No one will you know where you are if you don't want them to."

The main door opened, and Elsie walked in, instantly spotting John in his new armor. A little smile came to her lips. She greeted everyone, although remained focused on John, coming around in front of him. She looked him up and down, a pleased expression on her face.

"You look great," she gave him a thumbs up, "I think I might be slightly jealous, sir. You'll have to fill me in on the details later; I suppose you've already heard them explained to you once."

John gave a curt nod of his head. He couldn't really believe how comfortable the suit felt, it was like he wasn't even wearing it. It seemed to move with him in perfect unison, there was no drag. Every movement was fluid – and the invisibility was great, as well. He was truly pleased. He should have known better than to doubt Lord Hood, he and the technicians had done a truly spectacular job on the armor.

Now, he had the fun part to look forward to – testing it out in the field.

---

**A/N: **Sorry for taking so long, - any of you who have been following my recent Twitter posts would know the frustration I've had with this chapter. It happens however, but now it's out of my way – and another chapter to add to the list. I hope you enjoy as usual. -AB


	17. It Starts Tomorrow

**Chapter 17 – It Starts Tomorrow**

** August 27****th**** – UNSC Base – Florida Branch**

Renee sat pondering on the hill overlooking the testing field. It had been equipped with all sorts of obstacles, custom made just for John and his new armor. Some of the things that lay in that field would be deadly to the average human, she realized – even a marine with full battle armor. She'd watched John run through the field yesterday for the first time, and he made it through in less than a minute, without even getting caught up once. Looking at the empty course, Renee could replay the event in her head, John almost just a green blur as he soared through the obstacles, finishing with a loud yell, tearing his helmet from his head and grinning towards the sky with exuberance.

It had been an amazing success, and Renee could tell by the way John looked when he had walked toward the crowd that had gathered to watch, that being back in a danger zone, with adrenaline pumping through his veins and a weapon in his hand was something he had missed. He'd high-fived Elsie, a genuine smile on his face as she, Lord Hood and the others congratulated him. Renee had remained generally composed – she was happy for him of course, but she wasn't sure how to feel about him expressing enjoyment in running his way through a dangerous obstacle course.

They hadn't spoken much since yesterday after he'd tackled the obstacle course. Now that John's armor proved to be functional and a benefit to him, everything else was beginning to take shape. Renee knew, at this rate, they would ship out tomorrow. The designated frigate they would be using was in check, and the crew had already started loading it full of the necessary supplies – six months worth of supplies. Renee had tried to contain her confusion when she'd first learned this fact. Was it possible that they could be gone that long?

She felt uneasy as she sat there on the grass, keeping her knees close to her chest. Today, she had to do her own obstacle course, the same one she'd failed a week ago. If she was able to complete it successfully, she'd receive her rank of Corporal again, and be prepared to leave on this mission.

Confusion was a main object on her mind at the moment; she wasn't even really concerned about the obstacle course. Renee was confident that she could do it, and if she failed it, she didn't even care what happened. She found herself moody today, since the moment she'd woken up. Care-free was something that literally applied to her today.

Here she was, sitting on the hillside by herself, picking at a hole in the knee of her fatigues. She was only wearing a simple white tank top, and didn't care as the hot sun beat down on her shoulders and neck. She could feel her skin burning, and the sweat running down the back of her neck, but she didn't want to move.

With one hand, she slid her dog tags back and forth on the chain, making a little jingling noise, while supporting her head with the other, resting her elbow on her knee. Her brain was running on overdrive, she was completely all thoughts. She was thinking about John, about Elsie, about the ODSTs, about the mission.

She felt like she was becoming distant from everyone she was close to, her conversations with Elsie were becoming less frequent, Mickey hadn't talked to her since that incident in the cafeteria, and John... she could sense they were falling apart at the seams. She was losing him – _her _John, was once again slipping through her fingers. All he seemed to care about was this mission, and now, his new armor. He loved it, and had spent the majority of the previous day in it. His protective shell that sheltered him from the outer world was once again back in his hands; he wouldn't want to give it up again, not as long as he was Master Chief.

Renee stared at his own special obstacle course, or the "Spartan course" as Lord Hood had called it. The more she looked at it, the easier it appeared to be to complete. She thought back to yesterday, to John as he ran through it with ease. It hadn't been that difficult at all...

She felt a sudden surge of adrenaline; her dare devil senses coming to life. Screw that other obstacle course, she thought. If she could make it through _this _one, she would have her Corporal rank back in her hands, and perhaps maybe even a promotion. She was the only marine going on this mission – and she wanted to prove herself not just to John, but the ODSTs, that she was more than qualified to be a part of it.

It was a quick jog to the outdoor armory, where she put on the full marine battle gear. As she put the helmet on her head, buckling it tight under her chin, pulled on her gloves and grabbed an assault rifle off the weapons cache, she couldn't hold back a smirk that came onto her face.

"I can do this." She thought.

She approached the obstacle course, stopping at the little control panel to punch the button to initiate the timer. It began to blink, and on the little screen, she saw the timer counting down from three.

Her adrenaline was pumping through her veins so ferociously she almost didn't wait for it to reach zero. She tore forward, her legs propelling her as fast as she could go. She cleared the first obstacle, a barbed wire. The moment her foot touched the dirt, an explosion flew up from the ground, just a couple of feet from her. She let out a surprised gasp, but kept going. Another few steps, another explosion – this time not even two feet away. Dirt soared up into the air, filling it with dust as the explosion echoed across the field. She lost her balance for a moment, and staggered, but kept going.

Her adrenaline rush was quickly turning into fear.

This place was filled with land mines; she knew she could lose her leg in a split second. There was no turning back, she was in the middle of this field, who knew where else they were planted. Renee's mind was suddenly on overdrive, catching up with her actions. Yesterday, no mines had gone off! That's because John's new HUD told him where they were...

It was all making sense now. That's why it looked so easy – because John was able to avoid all the dangers.

Renee looked ahead of her, stopping dead in her tracks. The course seemed to stretch on endlessly in front of her. Her mind was fully caught up now, and only one thought ran through her head: _What the hell am I doing_?

She looked to both sides, there was barbed wire. This obstacle course wasn't for the faint. There was no wimping out halfway through. No wonder, she thought, I'm not a Spartan.

Suddenly, she heard running footsteps, and a voice ring out across the field.

"DON'T MOVE!"

Renee whipped her head around in the direction of the voice, and was surprised by who she saw. Edward Buck was running down the hill towards the course. He reached the obstacle course in seconds, and slowly began to edge his way out into the mine field. Renee wanted to tell him not to do it, but she was grateful for him.

"Don't move!" he repeated, "I'll come to you!"

Buck moved along in a zigzag pattern across the field, keeping close to the path she'd originally taken, going by the craters in the ground caused by the mines she'd set off. Finally, he jumped the last two feet to her, and scooped her up in his arms. Renee, who was beginning to realize the stupidity of what she had just done, clung on to him in embarrassment. She looked to his face as he turned back around and began to pick his way back to the start, her extra weight being no hindrance to him. His expression was one of concern, as well as concentration.

However, when they were safely out of the mine field and over the barbed wire, Renee watched his expression instantly change, and he literally dropped her on the ground. She wasn't able to get her feet beneath her, and landed on her back in the dirt. Letting out a groan, she looked up him with hurt on her features.

"Would you mind telling me what the hell you were thinking!?" He bellowed, his expression disgusted, "Don't you know this is an _advanced _course? Do you have any idea how close you were to being _killed_!?"

Renee could only bow her head in shame. She shook her head.

"Jesus, you're stupid!" Buck exclaimed in bewilderment, "Those mines are _anti tank_! They don't just take your leg off, they blow you to pieces! That would've been nice, now, for your Spartan of yours! Oh, I'm sorry, John, your girlfriend just blew herself up!"

Renee couldn't look at him.

"I don't know what I was thinking..." she said, her voice coming out small, "I just got this rush... and I... thought..."

"You got this rush," Buck put his hands on his hips, "I suppose it was the same rush that caused you to exercise in inappropriate conduct? You know what I'm talking about... Well, I've got news for you, _Trainee_," he spat, "That _rush _of yours needs to be slapped out of you! How the hell did you ever make it to Corporal when you act before you think? Get to your feet, stand at attention."

Renee did as she was told, trying to hold back the lump in her throat, and the stinging in her eyes. She was a marine, crying was unacceptable, she reminded herself. Buck walked right up to her, his face inches from hers. He glowered down at her.

"If I was in charge," he said, his voice more controlled, "You would be packing your bags and your sorry ass would be on an airplane back to LA, do you understand me?"

"Yes, sir," Renee answered, her voice small.

"Do you realize by pulling your little stunt, you didn't just put your own life in danger, but mine as well? I just risked my life for you, Trainee."

"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir."

Buck scoffed, but he nodded, his expression softening.

"But I admire your determination, no matter how ridiculous it may be," he admitted, "I know most marines like you wouldn't want to even be within five feet of that course, they wouldn't even want to do it if they were ordered – but you go running into it without even the slightest idea of what you're up against." He looked thoughtful, "I suppose you're the same when it comes to that Spartan of yours."

Renee didn't say anything, she wasn't sure if she could even reply to that.

"Now, you owe me one," he clapped her on the shoulder, "Get out of that gear and get out of my sight."

"Yes, sir," she answered, and she did as she was told. Buck left while she was still taking off the battle armor, and a few moments later she trudged up the hill after him, but by then he had already gone inside the base and was nowhere to be seen.

As she walked into the building, she felt self-conscious and stupid. Confidence was something lacking in her posture, as she kept her shoulders hunched and her hands shoved in her pockets, and her eyes on her feet as she slowly made her way down the hallway. She realized now, in the quiet, that her ears were ringing from the explosions. She could close her eyes and see them in her mind.

She had been so stupid... she wondered if Buck would say anything about the incident to Lord Hood, or the other ODSTs, or Bryce, or John. It seemed unbelievable that Buck had been the only one to see her attempting to run through the advanced obstacle course... but maybe it was true. If it were, Renee knew it would be for the best.

There was still another couple of hours before she had to meet up with Bryce to tackle the _appropriate _obstacle course, and Renee decided it would be best if she just avoided any contact with people, so she went straight to her room.

She had just walked in, and was about to flop on her bed, when she realized she wasn't alone. Standing by her locker, stick straight, with his arms folded behind his back, was John. He wasn't wearing his armor, but a simple pair of cargo pants and a shirt that appeared too small for him, for his muscles bulged beneath the thin fabric. Renee didn't even get to wondering why he was there – all she had to do was take one look at his face.

It was controlled, but he was allowing the expression of anger to seep through. His eyebrows were furrowed, his mouth clamped shut, forming a harsh line. His eyes were narrowed into tiny slits, his irises not brown, but black.

Renee instantly grew rigid, moving only to close the door behind her. She felt her face blanch, knowing instantly why he was there.

"Have you lost your sanity?" John asked, his voice as cold as ice. It was almost a whisper. Judging by the expression on his face, Renee realized it wasn't a rhetorical question.

"No," she whispered.

"No?" he echoed, "That's funny, because I think what you have just done could only have been conceived by the mind of a complete and utter imbecile." He paused for a moment to grit his teeth, then started again, his voice a deadlier tone than before, "I am so enraged right now, I could put my fist through this wall, but I will hold myself back. I don't believe you, I really don't."

There was no need for him to be specific, for he knew she knew what he was talking about. Renee couldn't look at him, she felt the shame weighing down upon her shoulders, and allowed her head to sink down onto her chest. Once again, she was fighting back tears.

"If you want to kill yourself, go to the armory, get a pistol, put it to your head and pull the trigger!" John suddenly bellowed. He was in her face in a second, his hand beneath her chin to force her head up so she would look at him, "Don't go _fucking _around with land mines, and make other people risk their lives to save you when you stop and decide you don't have the guts to do it!"

Renee felt her knees grow weak with fear. John hadn't screamed in her face like this before – and with his hand on her neck, she knew if he wanted to, he could kill her with just a quick little squeeze. He hadn't ever been this mad at her, veins were sticking out in his temples, his face suddenly flushed red.

"I don't want to die!" she cried, her voice failing her as she tried to keep her composure, "I certainly don't want to kill myself! I didn't know what I was thinking... I... just..."

"You just what? You thought you could try out that obstacle course just for fun? After you _watched _me complete it yesterday? You know how dangerous it is!"

"I'm sorry!" she cried, turning fully away from him, biting down hard on her lip. She was silent for a moment, before she regained enough control to be able to continue. Looking over her shoulder at John, she went on, "You can't believe me? I can't believe _you_! You thought I wanted to kill myself? Death is something I don't fear, but it's also something I don't want to meet before my time. However, I will not lie to you; I have been feeling not the best for the days gone past, ever since we got into that argument. I feel like I am losing you, John, like you are slipping through my fingers like a handful of sand. Now that you have your armor back, I feel it more than ever. I'm afraid. I worked so hard to get you feeling normal again, and I fear that once we leave tomorrow for the mission, that you will go back into that _place _again, you won't want to talk to me. You won't want to love me. I can already see a decline in our love, ever since we started to hold back, we're not just holding back our displays of affection, it's like we're holding back our love in its entirety. I want you to promise me, John, promise me that I won't lose you again. Nothing frightens me more."

John looked at her, allowing a few seconds to pass in silence as he allowed her words to sink in and take their effect. He struggled with his facial expression, feeling his sudden surge of anger leaving him just as quickly as it came. Who was he trying to fool? He couldn't hate her, he couldn't be mad at her. He looked into her face, which was at the moment filled with anguish.

"I'm not going anywhere," he finally said, picking his words carefully, "I don't know why you would think I would change. You're not going to lose me... that I promise you, and you know me and my promises."

"That's why I want you to promise," Renee answered, her voice small.

"I _promise_," John repeated firmly, not breaking eye contact, "You have my word... as long as I can have yours... promise me that you will never, _ever_, do something stupid like that again. I don't think it's really sunk in how close you were to being killed. Only Buck and I know... and for me to know, it bothers me."

"I will never do that again," she sighed, "I don't know what was going through my head, John. It was just this silly adrenaline rush; I thought I could do anything."

"You can't."

She nodded in response, leaning back against the wall, sighing once again deeply. Suddenly, John was there, and he wrapped his arms around her in an intense hug. She felt his lips on her forehead in a gentle kiss. Her arms felt like rubber, but she was able to bring them up to wrap around John's large back, feeling his muscles through the thin fabric of his shirt.

"I won't continue to let us fall apart like this," Renee announced, feeling determined, "And we _have _been, don't say we haven't. I know it just isn't me."

"Hm," it was his way of agreeing. He lowered his head to her ear, where he whispered, "Then mission starts tomorrow. It will be a month, just a month... then we can go home, and there are no restrictions within those four walls."

"I find myself longing for that day," she confessed, "More than you know, John." Looking up to his face, she gave him a little smile, "I want to kiss you, but it will only be a reminder of our restrictions."

"I'm an expert at self-control... and I can definitely hold you off if you start going too far."

"Although it is difficult," Renee amused.

"Difficult, but not impossible."

--

Renee stood in the auditorium, just in front of the podium, wearing her dress uniform. Her arms were folded behind her back and her posture was flawless. Behind her, there were all the people from her mission squad, John, Elsie, Buck, Mickey and the rest of the ODSTs. In front of her, at the podium, stood Lord Hood, and beside him, Lieutenant Lyons and Diana Bryce.

"Now, before we get on with our final meeting before you ship out tomorrow morning," Lord Hood was saying, "I'd first like to reward trainee Renee Kilburn with her rank. Today, she successfully completed the obstacle course under the maximum time allowed, at a time of a minute and twenty two seconds – the final aspect to her training. She's proved to both her instructor, Miss Bryce, that she is more than physically able to rejoin the UNSC fully, once again receive her rank of Corporal, and accompany those in this room in the mission tomorrow."

Renee forced herself to stand straighter, pride overwhelming her. She had indeed completed the course, and had impressed Bryce incredibly. Behind her, she heard the applause from everyone – a quick glance over her shoulder, and she saw John couldn't hold back a small smile, as he clapped calmly for her. They made brief eye contact, then Renee looked back, smiling, to the front of the room.

"Now Miss Bryce would like to share a few words about her latest graduate..." Lord Hood explained, stepping aside as Bryce, even shorter looking compared to him, took the podium. She looked to Renee:

"I'd like to congratulate Kilburn on her success," she announced, "Because, when they first tossed her into my hands, she was the sorriest looking thing I'd seen in a while. She was unable to even do a few push-ups. One thing I noticed about her immediately, however, was her determination. She never gave up, even when she was hanging by her ankle from the rope bridge in the obstacle course..." Bryce paused to allow the few chuckles this roused from those in the room. Renee even smiled at the memory.

"Kilburn expressed true skill, once we were able to rebuild her strength; it was easy to see that she had once been a marine. She had it all in her; it just took a bit of digging to pull it back out. I watched this girl over the past week, and yesterday when I realized today was going to be the day she'd run the obstacle course again, well, I knew she would make it, and I knew she'd be reinstated, but Renee," she looked to her, "I'm proud to reinstate you, not as a Corporal, but as a Sergeant."

Renee's mouth fell open. Cheering erupted from behind her, she could hear Mickey above them all – but then it stopped just as quickly as it had started, and she guessed that it was Buck who silenced the ODSTs. Completely baffled, she looked back over her shoulder, to see Elsie and John, both of them smiling ear to ear. She looked back to the podium, she spoke:

"You're not serious!"

"Oh, but I am," Bryce replied, smiling, "Congratulations, Kilburn. You deserve nothing less."

"Thank you," Renee was dumbfounded. She felt almost weak in the knees. A Sergeant? Never did she think she'd see that rank, ever – but here she was, being promoted. She couldn't help but wonder if the promotion would've been re-considered if Lord Hood had found out about her near-death experience earlier.

"You don't need to thank anyone," Lord Hood answered, "It was all you – now I'm seeing to it that your rank of Sergeant is being put on all your uniforms – your status in our database has already been updated, Sergeant."

Renee nodded, still finding it hard to believe. She didn't know what to say, so she simply saluted him, then allowed her shaky legs to carry her over to the seat beside John as everyone sat down for the remainder of the meeting. The ODSTs clapped for her, and Mickey, who was sitting one row behind, reached forward to pat her on the shoulder, grinning. He, along with the others, muttered congratulations to her. Renee smiled numbly and said thank you – and snuck a glance over her shoulder to Buck, who sat at the end of the row beside Veronica. Veronica had smiled and congratulated her, but Buck had an indifferent look on his face, and kept his eyes on the podium.

Renee turned around to look to John and Elsie, the two who she could quickly confess her feelings to.

"I'm so surprised..." she whispered, "Wow... I..."

"I'm so proud of you!" Elsie remarked.

"Yes," John momentarily reached over and took Renee's hand; giving it a little squeeze, "Congratulations..." he tested out her new rank, "Sergeant." She smiled back at him, feeling overwhelmed. She wanted to kiss him, but knew it wasn't possible, not here.

They turned their attention back to Lord Hood, who had once again taken the podium. He gave everyone in the room a few seconds for the buzz of excitement to die down, before continuing.

"Let's get down to business," he declared, and instantly the room fell silent, "As you are all well aware by now, tomorrow is when you will be shipping out. We expect to have everything finished preparation-wise by midnight tonight. In the morning, you'll report to the docking bay, where you're assigned frigate _Midnight Sun_ will be ready to go. Captain Dare, you'll be in charge of the frigate navigation-wise, along with Cortana, who will be your fellow AI for this mission. Cortana was the AI assigned to Master Chief, and she has helped him more times than he can count. She'll continue to do the same on this mission."

Now I am aware that none of you have been out of orbit since the war's end, some of you longer. If you are nervous, be sure to get a good night's rest. It'll be pedal to the metal tomorrow, and I don't want to see any yawns or sleepy looking eyes. I expect you all to be running on a hundred percent."

The plan is as follows: we estimate that it will take you a few weeks to reach the expected destination, which will be spent in Slipspace. Once you reach the Zeta Doradus system, which once contained the planet Onyx, you will begin a sweep for any signs of life. This was the last known location of our MIA personnel. I want you to check every inch of that system, and if anyone is found, well its obvious – bring them home. If there are _any _hostiles, it's obvious too. Annihilate them. This will be a success, I will except nothing less. Am I clear?"

A compilation of voices shouted out in unison:

"Sir, yes, sir!"

"Good. You are dismissed."

There was a great deal of bustling as everyone got out of their seats. As soon as Renee was on her feet, she looked up to John, who was ever-handsome in his dress uniform, his medals gleaming on his chest. He gave her a little smile.

"Could I give you orders?" Renee questioned innocently, returning the smile.

"Not quite," he smirked, "Besides, I'm in charge of this mission." He looked around for a moment, then held out his hand to her, "Congratulations, Sergeant."

"Thank you," she shook his head, laughing slightly.

Elsie, who came up to stand beside John, looking quite smart in her dress uniform, her blond hair pulled back into a knot at the base of her neck, also offered Renee her hand.

"If we're going to be doing this hand-shake thing," she muttered, giving John a weird look. Renee shook Elsie's hand, which, even for a girl, was bigger than hers. Elsie congratulated her once again, and Renee thanked her, then suddenly, Mickey came rushing up to them.

"Sergeant!" He cried, holding out his arms, looking for a hug.

Mickey was a Private, Renee remembered. She tested out her first punch at having authority. She raised her eyebrow, looking at his open arms questioningly.

"Oh," Mickey remembered, giving her a salute and Renee returned it, "I guess you're not a Trainee anymore."

"Guess not," Renee answered, "It's going to take some getting used to, however."

"Yes indeed." It was Buck – who had silently came up behind Mickey, who quickly stepped aside. Buck had a rather smug look on his face, and he looked from Renee, to Elsie and John then back to her, "It wasn't just your DI that got you promoted, have you know."

"You?" Renee questioned, bewildered.

"Mhm," Buck nodded curtly, "You finalized my decision today. You have fight, the right type of an attitude for a Sergeant. Just remember your place, however. Don't let it go to your head."

"I won't," Renee replied, "I personally question if this promotion was a wise idea."  
"I can easily have you put back down to Corporal, if you so desire," he smiled wittily.

"You're a man quite addicted to self-benefit, aren't you Eddie?" Renee grinned, raising an eyebrow, "For, if I had been a Gunnery Sergeant just like you, and the promotion was for Master Sergeant, you wouldn't have had a kind word to say about me, would you? You get off on the fact you can still order me around. It makes me wonder why you're involved with a Captain. Veronica doesn't seem like a girl that likes to be told what to do."

Buck chuckled, looking to John for a moment.

"You mustn't mind being told what to do, with that Master Chief of yours. I bet he uses his rank for many benefits."

"One of them is being able to tell you to back off," John spoke up, giving Buck a testing look, a smirk coming on his face. Renee could tell he was in a good mood to pick fights. She felt dread soaring through her, she didn't want conflict.

"John!" She turned on him, feeling confidence boosting her, "I may not have higher authority and be able to order you, but I can advise you. Keep your mouth shut," she turned to Buck, "That goes for you too. Frankly, I am _sick _of you two with your quarrels. I may not know truly what went on with the history of the Spartans and the ODSTs, but who really gives a damn! That was then, this is now. We are going on a mission tomorrow morning, and that means we will be a _team. _If we are to be a true team, it shouldn't matter who's a marine, who's a Spartan, who's an ODST, who's a private or who's a sergeant. What matters is that we work together to succeed – and bring back those who are MIA. They are depending on us, and I am not going to let them down. At first, I admit, I came here because I didn't want to be left alone back in LA – but training has hardened me, and now my receiving this rank, being promoted, has shown me that I am a worthy member of the UNSC, and as an enlisted member of the UNSC, I have a purpose. Last time I was here, we were fighting a war. I had thirty bullets removed from my body, and lived. I was in a coma for eighteen years, but I lived. Now I have a chance to prove myself again and bring back every single person out there who is alive. I will not let them down. And I expect everyone to do the same."

Renee finished, wavering for a moment, looking around unsurely at those who had heard. It hadn't just been Buck, John, Elsie and Mickey, but the rest of the ODSTs, Lord Hood, Lieutenant Lyons, Bryce. She studied John's face, Buck's, Elsie's. They were ones of surprise. Mickey, who really had nothing to do with the conflict, just nodded in approval.

Renee could feel her confidence failing, as she felt everyone's eyes on her. She dropped her gaze to the floor.

"I hope I've made a point, somehow..." she muttered, feeling overwhelmed as she turned and left the auditorium, taking her hat off her head to run her fingers through her hair. She made it into the hallway, and broke into a jog, putting her hat back on. Glancing back over her shoulder at the auditorium doors, she saw no one came after her, and for that she was glad – she needed time alone.

--

Renee stood in the hallway in front of the large memorial mounted on the wall. It spanned the whole length of the hallway, listing names of officers and higher ranking officials that had lost their lives in the war. She had found Troy's name, it had been not far down the hallway, near the first. It read,

"_Lieutenant Troy Z. Fisher – April 2__nd__, 2512 – May 7__th__, 2535_"

She had reached out and touched his name, running her hand along it. Memories had flooded back to her, all the times she had spent with him. She stared at his date of death, May 7th. It had been a changing day, a horrible day, a day she tried to forget but couldn't. She couldn't erase the memories that had been etched into her brain. Watching Troy struggling for his breath as he spoke his last words to her, pain so apparent on his features, yet there had been also eagerness, knowing soon that his suffering would end.

"I'm gonna get my break," he had said in a low whisper, "But I'm sure gonna miss you, Renee."

She remembered feeling the pain as she watched him go right in front of her, feeling the muscles in his hand release and watching him take his last breath, his eyes grow lifeless as he stared past her at the sky.

Troy's body had never been recovered from Hydra, so this was the closest thing he had to a gravestone.

Renee let out a deep sigh, leaning forward to touch her head to the plaque, feeling her throat choke up.

"Can you see me now?" she whispered, "Troy, can you see me? I'm a sergeant, now, Troy, if you can believe it. I know, you're probably so proud of me. I'm trying to be proud of myself, I really am. It just hasn't sunk in, yet. I just made a stupid speech back there, Troy. A really dumb speech – I don't even know if it made sense. You once said I had the guts to be a sergeant, that I had a knack for being a leader. Well, here I am. I don't know what to do, I'm so nervous. Tomorrow we ship out, and it will be the first time I've left Earth for eighteen years. I'm trying to calm myself down, and tell myself that it will be just like the old days... but there's no way it can be. Amy isn't here, and neither are you. Wherever you are, Troy, I miss you." Renee choked up on the last part, "I really do..." she couldn't help the tears that came, "Wherever you are. I don't think there's a heaven; I've seen too much craziness to be able to believe in God. But, if you're out there somewhere, I just want you to know..." she paused to recollect herself, "I think about you all the time. I thought about you when I gave my little speech, and I wish you were here with me to celebrate my promotion. We could go out and get a beer or something..." Amused at her own words, Renee let out a little chuckle, wiping at her face, "I wish I could ask you for advice... you've done it, been a sergeant. Support me, please, from wherever you are. Give me the luck I need to succeed, to make it through again."

Renee rubbed her nose, regained her posture, stepped back and saluted.

"I'll never forget you, Fish," she whispered ever so quietly.

"He was a good man, a good soldier."

Renee whipped around, to see Buck standing back behind her. His face was solemn, and she was too upset to try and speak, fearing that she would start crying again. She didn't know how long he had been there, but wasn't going to ask. Instead, she just turned back to face the plaque.

She heard Buck's footsteps as he walked closer, until he was standing right beside her. Renee glanced to him, and wiped at a tear that was on its way down her cheek. Buck met her eyes for a second, before looking back to the plaque, gazing up and down at the list after list of names.

"There are a lot of them," Buck remarked, his voice surprisingly soft, "A lot of good men and women, just like Troy, who gave up their lives for the same cause." He paused to look at Renee, watching her struggle with her facial features as she nodded in response.

"Don't be ashamed to cry," he told her. Renee, surprised, turned and met his eyes. They met each other halfway with a hug. Buck sighed, pulling her close and patting her back.

"Come here," he said quietly, "It's alright."

Renee sniffed, grateful for the hug, despite from who it was from.

"It's like visiting his grave," she mumbled, "When I see his name, and his date of death, it just hits me really hard. I miss him, you know."

"I heard you say that, yes," he muttered. They were quiet for a moment, Buck continued to pat her back solemnly, until Renee decided she'd hugged him long enough. They broke from the hug, and everything once again was formal.

"By the way, what you said back there, good job," Buck told her, keeping his voice level as he changed the subject, hoping to help, "It was inspiring."

"Thanks," Renee remarked softly, "I wasn't sure if it even made sense."

"It did, believe me. You surprised me – for the second time today.

"Look, I'm sorry," he told her, "For being such an asshole, not just to you, but to the Spartans too."

She nodded in response, giving a little shrug.

"It's fine..." She shrugged, "And I'm sorry too... for the stuff I said."

"I went looking for it," Buck was modest, "Don't worry about it. You made an excellent point, you know. If we are going to be a team, we have to work as a team, and it won't happen if we're busy hating each others' guts."

"I just want there to be peace for once," Renee sighed, looking to the plaque, "We've been fighting a war for the past thirty years. Now that it's over, we needn't quarrel amongst ourselves."

"Yeah," he agreed, "I know. It's going to take a lot of my effort however, to try and get along with John. It's not only me that's being disagreeable. No offense, but he's not the least bit approachable."

"He can't really be blamed," Renee answered, "It's just how he is. He's like a mimic. If you're nice to him, he'll be nice to you. If you're an asshole, he'll be an asshole back. John still isn't quite used to people, he just needs time to get to know you, and he'll warm up to you eventually. However, it'll take some time, in your case. You've done some things to him – he doesn't easily forgive, and he never forgets."

"It's understandable," Buck shrugged, "I actually don't expect him to forgive me, and I'm not expecting him to want to be my friend or anything. As long as we can work together on this mission, it'll be fine. Speaking of John, he was looking for you, but you'll be able to find him?"

"It shouldn't be that hard," Renee remarked, "I'm going to my room, so if you see him, tell him where I am?"

"Sure thing," he nodded, "So, I'll see you tomorrow morning, bright and early."

"Indeed," she gave him a little smile, and paused for a moment, "Thanks, Buck."

"Don't mention it."

--

Renee lay on her bed, gazing thoughtfully at the ceiling, her legs crossed casually and her arms resting behind her head. She could feel her body shutting down, readying itself for sleep. Her eyes were beginning to get heavy, but her mind was very much awake.

The door to her room opened, and John walked in, closing the door behind him. Seeing her looking relaxed, he smiled slightly and raised his hand in a wave. Renee smiled, waving back.

"How are you doing?"John asked softly, coming over and sitting on the edge of her bed. After a second, he remembered to add, "Sergeant."

"Fine," she replied, "Doing a lot of thinking."

"Hm, same here," John answered, "I'm proud of you, for what you said back there."

"I didn't know what I was saying," Renee shrugged modestly, "Split second blabber. Don't pay any attention to it."

"It made perfect sense," he told her, reaching out and grabbing one of her hands out from behind her head, "You'll make a good Sergeant, that I'm certain." When Renee's response was a mere shrug, he continued, "Are you ready for tomorrow?"

"Does it matter if I am or not?" Renee asked calmly, "It's not like it will make any difference. Tomorrow will come; I will wake up and find myself on that frigate heading into Slipspace just like everybody else. I'll be a ball of nerves tomorrow, but, it's my own conflict. Once we get out of orbit, I'll be alright." She smiled confidently, "Don't worry about me."

"You can't expect me to not care," John sighed with a smirk, "You know me better than that."

"How about you? Are you ready?"

"I was ready two weeks ago," he answered, "I'm always ready, no matter what it is."

"I wish I could be like that," she chuckled.

"Nah, you don't. It tends to freak people out when nothing fazes you."

"Are you sure _nothing _fazes you?" Renee asked, "I don't believe that."

"Close to nothing," he shrugged, "When you don't fear death, only then can people call you fearless. A part of me is always welcoming death with open arms, I'm not afraid to die."

"Stop that bullshit," Renee gave his hand a squeeze, her expression hardening, however she still remained relatively calm, "How can you not be? It's fear of the unknown."

"The unknown is what always intrigued me," he answered truthfully, "Besides, most times, when you die, you don't even know what happened. One second you're there, the next your gone," he snapped his fingers, "Just like flipping off a switch."

"John," Renee put her hand to her eyes, letting out a deep sigh as Troy came to her mind, "Please, don't talk like that."

"Sorry," he apologized quietly.

They were quiet for a while.

"Did you notice a change in Buck?" John changed the conversation when he decided the silence had gone on long enough.

"Yeah I did," Renee replied, "After what I said, he seems improved already."

"He came up and told me where you were," He muttered thoughtfully, "And was nice about it. He actually _smiled _at me, a true smile, not one of mockery. Who knew your words would affect him, I mean, they hit me hard, but you got through to Buck, too."

Renee nodded sleepily, her eyes momentarily fluttering shut.

"Hmm," her voice sounded tired. John caught on instantly.

"I'm keeping you up," he announced.

"No," she shook her head, "My body's tired, but my brain's working double time..."

"Just close your eyes and your mind will soon follow your body," John said softly, getting to his feet. He leaned down and kissed her on the cheek, "Get some rest, I'll see you in the morning."

"Can't you stay?" Renee asked, although her eyes were closed as he had instructed, "No strings attached." When she didn't get an immediate response, she opened one eye to look at him. John was simply looking down at her, an unreadable expression on his face.

"When will there be another chance?" She pointed out.

"Okay," John sighed, smiling, "Move over."

She quickly scooted over to make room for him, but they had to lay on their sides to be able to fit comfortably. John exhaled deeply, wrapping his arms around her and adjusting his head on the pillow, trying to find the right spot.

He kissed her on the nose gently.

"Goodnight," he whispered.

Surprisingly, Renee's mind calmed down, and she was asleep sooner than she expected.

--

**A/N: **Another chapter done and I know as of recent I've been updating biweekly instead of weekly, and for that I apologize. Things are busy. But here you go, I hope you enjoy the latest addition. As always, let me know what you think. – AB


	18. Take off

**Chapter 18 – Take Off**

**August 28****th****, 2553**

John awoke with a start, finding his face pressed up against the cold wall, a rude awakening. He could feel sweat covering his forehead in little droplets. Crammed up against the wall on the little bed not made for two, he felt Renee's body snuggled in close to his. As he blinked off the haziness of sleep, he lifted his head from the mattress; he craned his neck to look over his shoulder. He saw Renee, with her head lying comfortably on the pillow, asleep on her back, her hands casually folded on her chest as if she was just taking a little nap. The expression on her face was peaceful, but he knew there was no way he could get out of the bed with disturbing her.

Looking at the time, John realized he'd have to get her up anyway. It was 0530 hours, and he guessed that a fair number of personnel in the base were already awake. He sat up, sweeping his hand across his sleepy eyes with a single gesture, blinking them and opening them wide. He suppressed a yawn, and looked down to his sleeping partner.

Stealthily, he crawled over her, his face hovering inches above hers. He reached out gently, and his fingers had just brushed her cheek, when Renee woke up with a gasp. For a moment, she was disoriented, surprise flashing across her features, but when she saw the familiar face she let out a deep sigh.

"Jesus, John, you scared me," she whispered, smiling and laying back against the pillow.

"Sorry," he muttered back, holding back his desire to be tender and lean in and give her a morning kiss. Instead, he rolled off her and perched himself on the edge of the bed. Renee watched him in silence, her eyelids still fluttering with tiredness. He made eye contact with her as he got to his feet.

"It's time."

---

Renee walked briskly down the hallway, dressed in full battle gear. Her boots clunked against the floor plates as she went, holding an assault rifle casually in front of her, her heavy knapsack on her back, containing all her gear and clothes. Her stomach was doing somersaults, but she remained calm. She momentarily adjusted her helmet on her head, letting out a sigh. She hadn't bothered trying to eat anything for breakfast, she'd simply went and taken a shower and got on her gear.

Pride accompanied her nervousness as she headed down the hall to the docking bay. As she passed people in the hallway, whether it be stewards, technicians or enlisted personnel, she felt important. Her new Sergeant's badge was displayed on her upper sleeve. She knew whoever looked at her knew, she was a member of the team leaving on the mission. She felt like a true marine again.

John had gone to get his Mark VII armor put on, and she expected that he already might be at the docking bay. She hadn't seen anyone else from her team this morning, so she'd guessed they were already there, waiting for the final debriefing.

When she finally reached Docking Bay 01, she hesitated at the door, before walking in. The room was massive. Hundred foot ceilings easily, and they had been opened. Most of the sunlight was blocked out by their frigate, _Midnight Sun, _towering over them. She could only see a part of its underbelly; she'd forgotten how big they were. A gravity lift was in the center of the room, made for both personnel and supplies, although Renee watched as a Pelican loaded with supplies - including a warthog, took off, flying up into the frigate's open loading bay. They would probably be transporting the majority of the supplies via the Pelicans.

She stood there for a few minutes, just watching the hustle and bustle of the room. Not a few minutes later, the Pelican returned from the frigate, now empty of supplies and the warthog.

Renee quickly spotted the rest of her team, helping the workers carry on any last supplies to the ship. The empty Pelican returned to the ground, and that's where everyone carried the last boxes of ammo, first aid kits, rations and other supplies to be placed.

She saw the ODSTs, but not the Spartans – neither John nor Elsie were in sight. Mickey caught her eye, and turned towards her. He wasn't carrying any supplies, so to speak, but instead, he had Brute the cat in his arms.

"You're allowed to keep him?" Renee asked, as she walked forward to pet the cat.

"Yeah," Mickey grinned, "Although Dutch, Romeo, Rookie and I had to run out last night to the nearest grocery store and pick up the necessary supplies for the little guy. Used our own money too, Lord Hood wouldn't allow it to come from the UNSC funds. But the good thing is we've got our mascot."

"Let's just hope he doesn't freak out when we're leaving orbit." She remarked.

"Let's just hope _they _don't freak out when we leave orbit," Mickey joked.

"What are you talking about?" Renee asked, "You're an ODST, a Helljumper, you freefall into atmospheres. Leaving one shouldn't be a big deal."

"I wasn't talking about us," Mickey said, "I was talking about the Spartans. John, the Master Chief. Isn't this the first time he's been off Earth in a while? And he has PTSD, the same thing as Rookie – though Rookie's been hit harder by it, I'd say."

"How do you know about that?" she demanded.

"It says in his file," Mickey answered quickly, shifting Brute in his arms, who only snuggled closer to him, purring rather loudly, "Buck decided to check it out the other day."

"John's fine," Renee shrugged, "He's gotten better since he left LA."

"Yeah, that tends to happen," Mickey nodded, "These guys with PTSD, they're all nerves when they're thrown into normal life – but put 'em back in the midst of things, all that shit that bothered them, the flashbacks and whatever, they forget it. They get back into the game, or at least that's how it is with Rookie. And if it's Master Chief you're talking about, he'll be rollin' so hard steam will be coming out of him, just you watch. It's what he's meant to do."

"Hey Mick, get over here and help me with this shit, will ya?" Romeo suddenly called from halfway across the docking bay. He was standing beside a stack of ammo boxes. Mickey looked to Renee, giving her a little smile.

"You better get helpin' too," he said, remembering to add, "Sergeant."

He hurried off before Renee could say anything.

She sighed, and turned around, coming close to walking right into Buck.

"Good to see you're finally here, Sergeant," he said, "I need your help carrying some supplies. Just because you're a Sergeant now, doesn't mean all you do is stand there and give orders. That's for Lieutenants. We're still NCO, which means, we haul ass."

"I'm fully aware of that, Gunny," Renee replied, "Besides, I'm better keeping myself busy than just standing there, keeps me from worrying so much."

"You're worried?" Buck asked, "What is there to be worried about?"

"It's been eighteen years since I last took part in space travel," she answered quietly, "It's normal that'd I would be feeling a bit of anxiety."

"I'll hold your hand if you get scared," he smirked, walking towards the supplies that were to be still loaded on the Pelican.

"No thanks," Renee snapped as she followed him quickly.

"Get John to, then." He glanced over his shoulder at her.

"I won't be holding anyone's hand, thank you very much!" Renee felt her cheeks coloring, "I'm a marine, not some... little girl."

"There you go," Buck gave her a quick thumbs up, stooping to pick up a couple of ammo boxes, "If you were a guy, I'd say grow a pair. But, you're a woman, so just act ballsy. Trust me, some men like girls who hang off their arms, but _real_ men like women who got fight."

Renee picked up a couple of boxes as well, following Buck back to the Pelican.

"That's why you're with Captain Dare?" she questioned, "I'm assuming you'd categorize yourself as a _real _man, Gunny?"

"Hah," Buck raised his eyebrows, "One of the best!"

"Hmm. Not sure all would agree to that."

"Listen here, lil Sarge, I never said I was _the _best. I said I'm _one _of the best."

"Lil Sarge?" Renee echoed.

"Yeah, like it?" he asked, "It's your new nickname. Get used to it."

"So, am I to call you Big Sarge?" Renee played along.

"You can, since it ain't a lie," a grin came on Buck's face.

"Nah, I'll stick with Gunny," she made a face.

Buck laughed out loud, as he set down the boxes of ammo in the Pelican's hold, and shoved it back against the other boxes to make room, and turned to take Renee's from her, "You know, you ain't too bad of a person when you're not with Johnny-Jerk off."

Renee gave him a disapproving look.

"Don't."

"Sorry," Buck shrugged, "Old habits die hard."

"Well headshot this one and be done with it," Renee sighed, "You'll come to find, over time, that I'm not the only one who's personable. John just needs more time to get used to the fact that you're hating on him anymore, and also get over his urge to wring your neck."

"That makes me feel safe," he grimaced, "I know he could, too. Do you remember LA? What he did to that Bayle guy?"

"Yeah, yeah, I do," Renee was instantly uncomfortable, "But I don't like to."

"It's hard to believe he's that strong," Buck admitted.

Renee nodded.

"Then you understand, then?" he asked, "Why I was so sceptical of you being with him? I was only looking out for a fellow marine. He could, if he wanted to, kill you without much effort."

"I suppose I can see your logic, yes," Renee replied, "But, I know him better than you do. When I said I would be fine, you should've believed me. And that time, the other day, when I had the split lip, we actually hit heads by accident. Nothing was done on purpose."

"You don't have to justify to me," Buck shrugged, "I get it now, I understand. You're an odd couple, but its okay, as long as he doesn't lay one finger on you in a harmful way."

"He won't."

Renee happened to glance over her shoulder, when she saw John and Elsie enter the docking bay, both wearing their armor. Elsie's, Renee immediately noticed, was different from John's, however, still gave her an intimidating look, even next to John, who was now easily 7 feet tall and looked bigger than he was due to the armor. Both he and Elsie were wearing their helmets with those mirrored visors, so Renee wasn't sure who or what they were looking at as they entered. They walked with confidence, stick straight in posture with long strides, barely swinging their arms, so they didn't look natural – more robotic than anything else.

Seeing John and Elsie made Renee's ego shrink. Any Spartan had an instant effect on anyone as soon as they entered the room. There was something about their armor, their size and their facelessness that made them strongly intimidating, even though Renee knew them both.

Buck didn't say anything; he just watched them with her as they crossed over to report to Lieutenant Lyons, who at the moment was the highest rank present, since Dare was already aboard the frigate. They watched him kind of seem awed by the Spartans' presence, although he remained calm despite having to crane his neck to look uneasily into their mirrored faceplates. They couldn't hear what the Spartans said, but Lyons nodded in response and the two Spartans turned towards Renee and Buck. As they approached, Renee noted Buck take a step backwards.

John, who was slightly ahead of Elsie, raised a hand to wave to Renee. She smiled, and returned it. Elsie waved too. Renee, with a glance over her shoulder, saw Buck had gone off to see if there was anything else needed to be loaded onto the ship. She shook her head slightly, knowing Buck was intimidated by them.

Renee looked up at both of them, feeling dwarfed.

"Hello," she said, although knowing right away it wasn't much of a Sergeant thing to say.

"Sergeant," John and Elsie said in unison, and Renee wasn't sure if it was intentional or not. It seemed, from what Renee could remember, whenever Spartans were together; they seemed mentally in sync with each other.

"So," Renee started, finding it suddenly difficult to make conversation, "Are you two ready?"

"One hundred percent," John answered. His voice seemed deeper, with more of a huskier sound than usual. It must be the helmet, Renee decided. Whatever it was, she found it attractive.

John glanced over his shoulder to Elsie:

"You?"

"Of course I am," she answered, "Although it's been a while since I've been in this armor, give me an hour or so and I'll be back to feeling comfortable again. It's much like an outer layer of skin," Elsie was talking to Renee now, "Too bad you couldn't understand what it's like. It may look like a hunk of titanium to you, but to us, sometimes we forget we're wearing it – we become _that _accustomed to it."

"Well, maybe they'll invent something like that for us marines eventually," Renee shrugged with a smile.

"I wouldn't be surprised if they haven't already got it in development," Elsie answered, "Our technological abilities have received quite a boost as of late, developing from Covenant technology, they're inventing new things all the time."

"Just hopefully no more Spartans," John added, his voice low.

"Hmm," Elsie seemed to agree, "Let's pray we won't need them. If they make them anything like we III's, I will be against it. Disposable soldiers, suicide missions – a complete waste – that's where I found myself questioning the UNSC. Throwing away 300 lives on crazy missions just to benefit itself. Some of the things we did, they weren't necessary. I seemed to be the only one too, to see what they were doing..." she trailed off and grew silent.

John put a hand on her shoulder, and gave her a slight nod. She returned it. After a second's silence, John spoke up to Renee:

"How about you? Nervous?"

She shrugged.

"A little," she remarked, "But I figure I will be fine when we're out of the atmosphere. It will be just like old times," she looked to Elsie, a smile coming on her face, "That's how John and I grew close, you know. Spending time in Slipspace."

Elsie chuckled.

"Well, in that case, it isn't completely a waste of time," she mused, "I usually spend it in cryo. I'm not one of those people who can stand to be idle. I have to be doing something, always."

"I hated Slipspace travel too, up until I met John," Renee grinned, "Trust me, he makes things entertaining."

"Does he now?" laughter was obvious in Elsie's voice, "By that do you mean just personally for you, or..."

"No, there's never a dull moment around Master Chief," she continued to brag. She glanced up to John's visor, wishing she could see his face. He remained quiet, although she desperately wanted him to say something. He didn't, however. Renee heaved a sigh, looking around the docking bay, to the ODSTs. The work was all done as far as loading supplies onboard, so they were just crowded together, talking and waiting for Lord Hood to show up. Buck was over talking to Lieutenant Lyons, who would be accompanying them on the mission. Lyons would be the second in command, technically – although they were breaking rules, for this mission, John would have authority even over Dare.

That made Renee think of another conversation-starter. She looked back to John:

"So, how do you feel about being in command of a Captain and a Lieutenant, Master Chief?" she asked with a grin.

"It's adequate," John answered, "Captain Dare and Lieutenant Lyons aren't experienced enough with Spartans to know what to do in this mission. Dare is good at captaining a ship, and Lyons is good at keeping everyone in line – and that's what they will do. I will be the one who decides how we're going to go about this."

Renee nodded.

"And Elsie will be just beneath me in authority," John added, "The rest of you are here just because we need the support. Technically, Elsie and I alone would be able to complete this mission without any aid of ODSTs or marines."

"Oh, but what would you do without us?" Renee asked with a playful smile.

"You, I don't mind," John muttered, "But the ODSTs I wouldn't miss."

"None of that!" she reminded him, nudging him with her fist.

"Yes, Master Chief," Elsie agreed, "None of that."

"They would probably say the same about us," John mentioned the most obvious evidence.

"I'm sure they would, but I've been in-talks with Buck, and, he's agreed that he doesn't want to start any trouble," Renee reminded him, itching beneath the strap of her helmet, "Or have you forgotten last night completely, where you told me Buck spoke kindly to you, even adding in a smile?"  
"Hm," John glanced over to the ODSTs, "Then why was he so quick to leave when he saw us come in?"

"Perhaps he figured leaving was the best way to avoid trouble," she answered him with a shrug, "I don't believe you're on 'Hey buddy, what's up?' terms with him just yet."

John chuckled ever so softly, shaking his head.

"You're right with that."

"I don't think Spartans are the 'Hey buddy, what's up?' kind of people anyhow," Elsie remarked, "I think it would just be... odd, and too much like everyone else. What do you say, John?"

"Hmm." Was all John said.

Renee looked at him thoughtfully as he towered above her in his new, shiny armor. He was in a strange mood, he had been since they'd woken up this morning. She guessed he just had a lot on his mind, like everyone else. Perhaps it was the responsibility he had on his shoulders; it was probably nagging at his subconscious mind and grating on his nerves.

"Everyone here?" a loud, boastful voice came from the main entryway, and the team turned to look, in surprise, it was Lord Hood. Not often was he one to raise his voice – but it wasn't due to anger – as he crossed the Docking bay, everyone clearly saw it was because of enthusiasm.

"Yes, sir," John stepped forward, his arm whipping up in a salute, "Everyone is here and accounted for, all supplies have been loaded and we are ready, sir!"

"Good," Lord Hood's voice softened again, but he smiled, looking around at everyone, "Well, I don't have to really tell you what to do. I just came down here to bid you farewell, and good luck. I'm sure this mission will be successful. You're the best of the best, that's why you're here today. So, make the UNSC proud!"

"Ooh-rah!" they all cheered, and gave Lord Hood out-of-unison salutes.

"Ship ready for takeoff in ten minutes!" one of the technicians bellowed, his voice echoing across the large room.

"Let's go!" Buck commanded, "Helljumpers, get your asses on board! To the grav lift, go, go, go!"

Renee lingered along behind with John, Elsie and Lord Hood, although she glanced over her shoulder as she saw the ODSTs enter the grav lift, flying up towards the ship. She saw Mickey, however, trying to keep Brute in his arms, who was trying to get away. Even from where she was standing, she could hear Brute's meows of protest, but Mickey got a good hold of him, and ran towards the grav lift, both him and the cat zipping up towards the frigate. Renee smirked, shook her head, and turned back to the others.

"One more thing, she'd be awfully upset if you forgot her," Lord Hood was saying to John. He looked at him for a moment, waiting for John to catch on.

"Cortana," John held out his hand, and Lord Hood put her crystal data chip into his palm.

"Indeed so," Lord Hood answered, "She's thrilled to be working with you again."

"Your own artificial intelligence, nice," Elsie remarked, almost sounding envious.

"Actually, she's going to be working as the ship's AI when you're in Slipspace," Lord Hood explained, "But, John, she's all yours if you do any groundwork."

"Understood, sir," John nodded. He looked down at the crystal chip in his hand, as it glimmered. He reached back to the back of his helmet, and put the data chip in the slot. He felt the tingling sensation, his vision momentarily blurred, and he heard her familiar voice that sounded like it came from within his head:

"Hello again, John."

"Hello, Cortana."

"Oh, this new armor is interesting," she approved, "A little bit roomier than the last one. Ah, I see a bit of Covenant technology must have inspired this. Interesting..." Cortana trailed off, mumbling things of approval about the new armours design. John smirked. He had to admit, it was good to have her back. He didn't feel as alone when Cortana was there.

"All connected?" Elsie questioned, leaning in front of his visor.

"Good to go," John remarked.

Renee looked in amazement at the back slot in the helmet.

"So, her chip just goes in there like a little drive?" she questioned, standing on her tip toes to get a better look.

Lord Hood nodded.

"And she can work with him?" Renee raised an eyebrow, "Or control him, or..."

"Cortana works in correspondence with the armor, but she can't control John, despite having very close contact with his actual mind," he explained, "It might be hard to comprehend."

"Just a little," she mused.

"Well, good luck, all of you," Lord Hood praised them, and he looked at Renee, "You especially, I've heard from Bryce about your knack for being clumsy."

Renee laughed.

"Yeah, I'll be alright, thank you sir," she said.

"John and I will look after her, sir!" Elsie announced, putting her arm around Renee's shoulders, pulling her close, "John's used to it by now, but I think he could use a little help if this woman is as accident prone as I hear."

"No accidents," Lord Hood told them, "That's an order. I want everyone back safe."

"Should be no problem, sir," John saluted him again, and Renee and Elsie followed shortly after, "See you when we get back."

Renee turned around, looking at the grav lift. It seemed almost like a dream as she walked towards it, her heart was pounding with obvious excitement, and too, nervousness. It kind of felt like she was walking towards a scaffold instead, due to have her head lopped off.

She suddenly got the urge to take John's hand, and remembered the conversation with Buck. She'd told him that she wouldn't be holding anyone's hand. Renee, although she wanted to do it, held herself back and kept herself distanced from John.

Reaching the grav lift, she paused. Looking back over her shoulder at John and Elsie, Renee gave them a little smile.

"We'll all go together," John ordered, "On three."

When John counted down to one, they all stepped onto the lift, and were carried upwards towards the ship. Renee let out a little nervous laugh, looking up as they approached the open loading bay. It had been such a long time since she'd used one of these; she'd forgotten how fun it was.

She remembered back to when she'd first joined the UNSC, they'd been trained how to use the gravity lifts, so that your gravity wouldn't be off centered and you would end up floating up on your stomach or back, which could hurt when it came to get off. In the training facility, there had been a grav lift set up on one of the platforms, you'd practice going up, getting off, climbing back down the ladder and doing it over until finally you got it right.

Renee and Amy hadn't found it much of a problem, and the two of them would just use the grav lift for fun when no one was really looking, until finally they were caught by a Sergeant and reprimanded for their childishness. Then, they'd been young, only eighteen. If only she could be young again...

They reached the top of the gravity lift and jumped out into the ship's docking bay. The ODSTs were waiting for them.

"Thought you were never coming!" Buck remarked, a hint of annoyance in his voice, "Dare wants us to report to the bridge."

Renee saw Mickey had quite a hold on Brute, trying to calm him down.

"The cat didn't like the grav lift," Dutch explained, gesturing with a thumb towards Brute.

"Which makes me sceptical about the actual take off," Romeo remarked, "Mick, you're going to be torn to shreds if Brute decides to take his claws out on you. I think it would be best to stop babying the animal and put him in that nice little cage of his until we're off the planet."

"The cage that cost us fifty bucks!" Dutch scoffed in disapproval.

"Listen, guys," Mickey frowned, "You may be upset about this whole thing, but the cat will bring us luck. Trust me. Now, where's his cage?"

"You were the one who sent it up."

"Focus!" Buck called out, "Mickey, find that goddamn cage and meet us in the bridge. Let's go."

Renee glanced up to Elsie and John, although she couldn't see their faces, she could guess that they were probably unimpressed by the ODSTs' antics. Wordlessly, they followed after Buck, and Renee had to quicken her pace in order to keep up with them. She glanced over her shoulder at the sound of the hydraulic doors of the docking bay closing. The gravity lift had been shut off. There was no turning back now.

As they followed Buck down the corridors of the unfamiliar frigate – he already seemed to know his way around – the group was relatively quiet. John and Elsie's boots made rather loud clunking sounds on the floor plates as they went, and that was the only sound for a while.

Renee hadn't travelled on a frigate before, only the Halcyon cruisers, and she realized she'd have the fun job of figuring out where everything was. Although the frigates were dwarfs compared to the cruisers, they were still pretty big, capable of carrying over a thousand personnel. To think, there were only the ODSTs, the Spartans, herself and the deck crewmen, bridge crewmen and technicians. At least, if people wanted their space, it would be available.

The hallways were grey, grey and more grey. Different shades of course, but like the Halcyon cruisers, the only real color were the signs on the floors. Cryo, Ammunition, Docking bay, etc.

They finally reached the bridge, which was large and spacious, much like the bridge on the cruisers. A large holographic screen dominated the room, accompanied with smaller screens on both sides of the room, which displayed different information. Bridge technicians sat in front of these smaller screens, busy at their work, not even looking up as they entered.

Veronica Dare was standing in front of the large holographic screen, Lieutenant Lyons beside her. They both turned to look at them. John stepped to the front of the group.

"You have the AI?" Dare asked.

"Yes, ma'am," John answered, reaching behind to the base of his helmet. With a clicking sound, he removed Cortana's chip from his suit and placed it into Dare's extended palm.

"Thank you, Master Chief," she replied, and turned to put Cortana's chip into the AI panel to her right. Cortana flickered to life in her holographic state, looking around the room, smiling. Her color changed from a pale blue to a bluish purple.

"Hello," she greeted them, acknowledging John specifically, "Chief."

Renee looked at Cortana with curiosity. She knew that this was the little AI who had saved John's life so many times, who had helped him win the war. She felt respect for her almost instantly.

"I'd stay and chat," Cortana announced, "But, it takes a bit of coordination to pilot the ship during take off..." she trailed off, muttering her progress as she went, "Assuming they're ready on the ground... engaging elevation thrusters..."

Dare looked out the little bridge window, as they felt the ship shudder to life.

"Just need to rise two hundred feet," Cortana narrated, "Then we can engage the main thrusters – and you might want to hold onto something. It takes quite a bit of power to get us out of the atmosphere, which by the way, will take us roughly twenty minutes, and another ten to break out of Earth's orbit, and approximately two minutes to calculate and enter a valid Slipspace void to take us to the Zeta Doradus System. If you want to know how long it will take us to get there, just ask."

"She talks a lot," Dutch muttered.

"She's smart," Buck replied back.

Renee glanced back at them, and saw Mickey had returned, although he now was carrying Brute with him in the cage.

"Christ, you can't leave that cat alone, can you, Mick?" Buck questioned.

"It's his comfort object," Dare smiled, cracking a joke. The ODSTs laughed, but she shook her head, and announced apologetically to Mickey, "Just joking, Mick. Keep it down though, guys. We've got at least a month on this frigate ahead of us, and we don't want to start grating on each other's nerves just yet."

"Yes, ma'am," the ODSTs muttered, not in unison.

Renee glanced back to Rookie, who of course, hadn't said anything. She still remembered that time he'd spoken to her. She mentally decided then and there that she would try and have another conversation with him during the Slipspace travel. She'd managed to coax John from his miserable PTSD state, so she felt confident that she would be able to do the same with Rookie. She already had a bonus; he'd spoken to her once, which meant he felt comfortable enough with her that he _would _talk.

She caught Rookie's eye, and he looked uncertain, almost worried, but she gave him a friendly smile. He instantly looked away, turning to ice. Renee looked back over her shoulder, not at all offended. She glanced up to John, and wondered if he'd seen that.

"Engaging main thrusters in five," Cortana announced, "Brace yourselves... four... three... two... one..."

Renee let out a surprised shriek as the ship shot forward on an upwards angle, gravity instantly against them. It pulled at everyone in the room towards the back. Lyons and Dare quickly took their seats in front of the holographic panel.

Elsie and John were able to hold themselves back against the gravity, but the ODSTs, and Renee were drawn back towards the back wall.

Renee felt a couple of hands grab her shoulders. A glance backwards proved it was Buck.

"Gotcha, clumsy," he smirked, drawing her back so she leaned against the wall along with the rest of them. Brute meowed from his cage in protest.

"I wasn't planning on falling," Renee said quickly, her head pressed back against the wall with the force.

"Just making sure," he replied, and he called up to Dare, "How's it going up there, Veronica? You and your little chair."

"Just swell, Buck," Dare smiled back at him.

"Can I sit on your lap?" Buck cooed.

"If you can get up here," she replied calmly, looking back to the front.

"Gravity is not on your side," Cortana announced, "Technically not possible."

"I was counting on that, Cortana," Dare murmured.

"Thanks, Veronica," Buck called up to her, "Way to make a man feel loved."

"We love you Gunny," Mickey spoke up.

"Thanks, Mick," Buck groaned.

Renee looked up at Elsie and John, who were standing in the middle of the room as if gravity wasn't against them, and was somewhat envious. She found it strange that it was Buck who had to reach out to help her from falling into the wall, and not John. John hadn't spoken a word to her since they had boarded the frigate.

As if he knew she was thinking about him, John looked back over his shoulder at her, and raised thumbs up in her direction. She returned it, although her stomach was doing back flips. Renee glanced out the window of the bridge, seeing the clouds flying past as the frigate continued to soar upwards into the sky.

At that exact moment she was overwhelmed with a colourful array of feelings: doubt, fear, lack-lustre. All of a sudden, the thought of this mission, her whole being here, was nothing that excited her, nothing that she wanted to be participating in. She looked around the bridge at what were now her fellow teammates for the next month. A whole _month._ Her gaze went once again to the window. The outside view was now absent of clouds, having gone above them in elevation. Her body was being shaken slightly as she leaned back against the wall, as the thrusters propelled the frigate on a straight line out of the atmosphere.

Renee wanted to talk to Amy; she realized how much she was missing her best friend. No one here was close to her as Amy was, not on the friendly terms, except for John, but John was now without reason, being distant and drawn into himself.

She didn't want to be here at all.

The thought of asking them to stop, turn around and take her back came into her mind, but she knew they wouldn't, at least not without good reason. She would probably have to break out in a cold sweat and have some sort of mental breakdown in order for that to happen.

Renee had seen this happen to a couple of people when she'd initially joined the UNSC. Some just weren't meant for space travel. As soon as they came near to leaving the atmosphere, some would just break down, acting almost crazy and would stay that way until their feet touched Earth again. Those types were immediately stationed to one the ONI stations on Earth.

Her mind was really beginning to wander, and subconsciously, Renee allowed herself to slide down the wall and sit on the floor, closing her eyes. She felt tired, wiped of all her energy.

"Kilburn, are you alright?" she heard Lyons ask.

Renee opened her eyes, and saw now all eyes were on her. She glanced to John, who didn't move from his place besides Elsie. Screw him and his sudden desire to do nothing, she thought, and momentarily wished she would have some type of breakdown and be sent back to Earth, and go home to LA.

"You're really pale," Buck kneeled down beside her, although the gravity pulled him awkwardly back against the wall, so he gave up and splayed his legs out in front of him. When Renee didn't say anything, he nudged her with his elbow, "Don't like taking off?"

"I used to love it," she muttered, closing her eyes, "I just don't feel good right now."

--

It took approximately twenty minutes to leave the atmosphere. In the final minutes, the frigate was shaken considerably. Renee had remained seated for the entire time, and was now holding her head in her hands, trying to calm down a nasty headache that was tormenting her. Dare announced for Cortana to initiate the false gravity, just as the ship broke free of Earth's atmosphere. Then everything grew calm, and the view out the window was a thousand glittering stars on a black backdrop.

The ODSTs cheered happily, applauding Cortana and Dare. Mickey excitedly congratulated Brute, who remained rather quiet inside his cage:

"You're in space, buddy! You did it!"

"The cat looks scared shitless, Mick," Romeo muttered.

"Just give him a minute, he'll be fine! Think of what you looked like on your first shipping out!" Mickey was quick to defend the creature, "Brute's just a recruit, he has to get used to things, don't ya Brute?"

Not even a purr came from the cat, he remained silent, and his golden eyes looked black as he stared out through the metal bars of the cage to the view of space out the bridge window.

Dutch let out a scoff as he peeked in at the creature, then looked down to Renee still seated against the wall, her arms hugging her knees as she stared at a spot on the floor, her face lacking any color whatsoever.

"Brute's not the only one who's not looking too good," he muttered quietly.

"John," Buck snapped his fingers at the Spartan, although it wasn't necessary to get his attention. He gestured to Renee, giving him a bewildered look, "Aren't you going to do something? You haven't said anything, let alone make a move to look concerned."

Buck felt his frustration rise as John didn't even move let alone reply. It was like talking to a statue. He glanced to Veronica and the LT, who were quietly watching. Veronica met his eyes for a moment, shaking her head ever so slowly, accompanying it with a shrug.

"You're all dismissed," She spoke up, "We'll be entering Slipspace soon. Make yourself at home, guys."

"I'm hungry," Mickey announced as he was the first to leave the bridge. One by one, they cleared out. Dutch nudged Renee with his foot.

"Come on, Lil' Sarge, time to go."

Renee looked past him out into space, gathering her strength to get up. Buck stepped forward and extended his hand. She took it and he helped her to her feet, which for a moment, were weak beneath her.

That had been the longest twenty minutes of her life, and possibly the most contemplative. She had sat there practically motionless, dreaded by the thought that, for every second that passed, she was farther away from the ground, farther away from her cozy little home in Los Angeles. She had chosen this, it was her decision to come here, and she had never thought she would have regretted it like she was doing right now.

A part of her told her to relax and give it a chance; it was her optimistic side happily suggesting to her that nothing but good things would come out of this mission, that it would be successful and fulfill her desire for a little adventure. She was almost forty, and unlike the majority of middle-aged women, she had rejoined the UNSC. She wasn't sure just yet if it was an accomplishment to be proud of or not.

She left the bridge behind the ODSTs, dawdling just to allow Elsie and John to catch up, but they were taking their time – unusual for Spartans. They weren't too slow, though; their naturally long strides prevented them from such. There was an obvious divide in the team's moods: The ODSTs were boisterous and excited, talking quickly amongst themselves about being able to choose what would normally be officer's accommodations. Renee and the two Spartans, however, were silent.

Renee had her reasons for her silence – but she wasn't sure why John and Elsie were so mute. They had stood in the same place for the twenty minutes and hadn't spoken a word to each other or to anyone else. They hardly even moved; only to steady their foot placements for balance purposes.

She momentarily blamed Elsie. Would John be acting differently if she wasn't there?

Renee glanced back over her shoulder at the two of them, taking her helmet off her head. Her hair surprisingly was damp. She must have been more nervous than she'd realized.

"We're finally here," Renee spoke up, smiling back at them, but felt like she would get more of a response talking to a wall. It took her a moment to realize they had responded to her – in a mere nod. Desperate to make conversation, she continued, "I was so nervous back there, but... I do hope I'll be feeling better soon. It's so... interesting to see space again, isn't it?"

"It brings back memories," John answered, his voice dark, dull.

"Well, yes," Renee nodded, "For me too... it doesn't seem that long ago it was my first shipping out." She paused, "So, let's all choose rooms next to one another, shall we? I do believe we're entitled to the officer's quarters, for, besides Lieutenant Lyons and Captain Dare, there isn't any high ranking personnel... well, I suppose you're both petty officers anyway... but..."

Renee shut up, turning around, frustrated, not expecting a response. However, a couple of seconds later, Elsie spoke up:

"Rooms next to each other would be a good idea, yes."

That marked the end of any conversation for the next half hour.

---

Renee walked into her selected room, and found it plainly furnished but spacious. It had a single bed, bedside table, writing desk complete with a lamp, chair and a locker for belongings. It would be her sanctuary for the next month, her place where she could go and get away from everyone.

She didn't want to be anti-social, but at the moment, she felt disconnected from the person who meant the most to her. John and Elsie had chosen the rooms next to hers, but had gone off to get out of their armor and into regular uniform. Both of them were saying little and doing even less.

Letting out a deep sigh, Renee set down her bag of things on the floor at her feet. So, this was really happening. Dare had announced a couple of moments ago over the intercom that they'd entered Slipspace and would be in the said Slipspace void for a good three weeks or more. Obviously she hadn't consulted Cortana first, who would've gave them a more precise estimate.

Renee over and opened her locker, and went about putting her things away and organizing them. She put her bag of personal hygiene items and her dress hat on the top shelf, hung her dress uniform neatly on one hanger, and her two other spare regular uniforms on the other hangers. Her workout clothes, a pair of sweatpants and a tank top, and her pyjamas, a pair of boxer shorts and a lighter tank top, were folded on the shelf second from the bottom, as well as her two spare standard-issue uniforms, along with the socks, underwear and bras. Dress shoes and standard issue shoes went on the bottom shelf.

It was quickly done, but when Renee stepped back and looked at it, it looked good.

She changed out of her battle uniform, and into the plain, boring gray standard issue uniform. Hanging up the battle uniform and placing her helmet on the top of her locker (she had to stand on her tip toes for that one), she slammed the locker door shut, whirled around and flopped on her bed.

It was comfortable. She nuzzled her face into the pillow, feeling frustrated and suddenly homesick, but scolded herself. She was a Sergeant, she wasn't meant to mope. Bryce would be very disappointed in her, she knew, but this sudden heaviness that weighed down on her shoulders was almost too much.

More than anything, she wanted to talk to John. She wanted to be close to him, she wanted to feel his strong arms wrap around her securely. Maybe that would make her feel better. She could talk to him about how she was feeling and he would listen to every word, and maybe not offer advice, but, at least he was someone who would understand and _care_. Or at least she hoped he would care.

Maybe it was just because he was behind that mirrored visor again that made her think he was being unresponsive. But that damned thing didn't keep him from talking, which was something that suddenly he didn't have much desire to do.

She thought she knew John, but she realized then and there that even now, after all the time they'd spent together, that there was some of him she still didn't understand, or couldn't understand. He hadn't told her everything he'd seen within the past year, and she knew some of it had etched itself permanently into his mind – going back into space might have stirred some of those permanent memories, PTSD or no. Maybe the same thing could be said for Elsie, who seemed to have a tragic past, not only with her parents, but with her history of service in the UNSC. The Spartan III program seemed crueler, if what she said was true about the Spartans being sent on suicide missions.

_Give them time_, Renee's conscience was telling her. She didn't want to argue. Everyone would need time to adjust to being aboard a ship in Slipspace again, and it would take a while before everyone would find their norm and develop a routine.

Even though, Renee knew that this mission, this time in Slipspace, wouldn't be the same as last time. Had she been expecting herself and John to transform back into the young lovers they had once been? To have Amy there with them, joking and teasing? To have Troy being a nag, getting after her and John whenever he saw the chance?

Of course not. The war was over, that time was so long ago. A piece of history, but something she couldn't forget.

This was just a retrieval mission, they were middle-aged now. Amy and Troy weren't here with them. There would be no possibility of a Covenant attack, there would be no call to go help a colony being glassed.

Renee let out a deep sigh. It was in the past, just like her youth.

She couldn't have felt any older.

---

**A/N: **FINALLY. Here you go. Read it. Love it. Enjoy it. – AB.


	19. Day One

**Chapter 19 – Day One**

**August 29****th****, 2553 – Slipspace**

When Renee opened her eyes, she realized instantly that she had fallen asleep. She hadn't intended to. Using every bit of her energy to roll herself out of bed, she got to her feet, rubbing the sleepiness from her eyes. She wondered how long she'd slept. Keeping track of time was something difficult in Slipspace, because technically, there was no time to go by. Usually in a Slipspace jump, everyone just listened to their internal clock, and went to sleep when their bodies told them they were tired.

Renee stumbled out of her room, glancing down the hallway. It was empty, and the ship was eerily quiet. She couldn't hear anyone, not a sound. Was everyone sleeping? Was this the equivalent to the middle of the night?

Walking a couple of uncertain steps down one direction of the hallway, she stopped, and looked back over her shoulder in the other direction, then back again. She didn't know where anything was on this ship. At least she didn't need to use the bathroom. Renee imagined herself hurrying down the hallways in a desperate search for a bathroom, what a horrible scenario that would be.

She decided against trying to wander, instead, she turned and looked contemplatively at the door to John's room. If this was indeed the equivalent to midnight, and everyone was asleep, this would be a good time to talk to him, she decided. As long as John wasn't asleep himself, that is.

Renee walked towards the door, and it slid open automatically. Light from the hallway shone into the dark room, casting a light across the bed. John's large figure was sitting on the edge of it. He didn't move. He was wearing just a pair of pants, the pale skin of his back, littered with scars, looked white in the light. His elbows were resting on his knees and his head drooped heavily, shadows preventing her from seeing if he was awake or not.

She gave him three, slow seconds that seemed to drag on by. For some reason, she felt nervous, uncomfortable, like she was trespassing. Just as she was about to step back out of the room, John moved his head ever so slightly, causing the shadows to disappear from his face. His eyes met hers.

Renee stared at him. He looked sickly. His eyes were bloodshot, and looked sunken into his head. His mouth hung open ever so slightly, his lips chapped. There was absolutely no color to his face at all.

"John," she whispered, "Are you alright?"

As she stepped closer to him, she saw his hair was damp with sweat.

"What's wrong?" she demanded, dropping to her knees in front of him.

"I'm exhausted." He exhaled.

"Then go to sleep," Renee told him tenderly, reaching up and touching his cheek. It was clammy.

"I can't," John stubbornly shook his head, although his eyelids drooped. Renee was going to ask why, but he extended a clenched fist out to her, and opened it. In his palm was the empty bottle of prescription pills for his PTSD, "I took the last one this morning."

"Oh," She whispered, biting her lip, "I'm sure you'll be fine."

"I don't know," John replied, his voice quiet, closing his fist around the bottle again, "How am I to know? I haven't had dreams since I started taking these, but now they're gone."

"Weren't they meant to last a month?" Renee asked ever so cautiously.

"At first, I was nervous, I didn't trust them. Sometimes I took two, or even three at a time," he bowed his head in admittance, "I know I shouldn't have. But I wasn't intending for this to happen, either."

Renee remained silent for a moment, realizing scolding him on his mistake wouldn't help. He knew what he did was wrong now; she wasn't going to act disappointed in him. She knew now, why he had been so quiet. This, on top of everything else, was bothering him.

She did the only thing that seemed to fit. She reached up and went to wrap her arms around him, but he bet her to it, pulling her close to him, holding her tightly as if he never wanted to let her go. John let out a deep sigh, her small frame feeling impossibly tinier in his arms.

"Will you stay with me?" he questioned, almost intimidated to let the words leave his mouth. He'd been foolish to ignore her the way he had earlier, to act so stone cold to everyone. He realized then and there, as he held her in the embrace, the only true thing he wanted is for her to be there with him and keep him company, stay by his side.

"Of course," Renee leaned back and smiled at him in the dim light, "You don't need to ask me. I was intending on staying whether you wanted me to or not."

"I should have known," he smirked slightly.

She leaned in and gave him a tender kiss, and remained inches away from his face,

"But you have to promise me something," she murmured, "Try to get some sleep. I'll be here by your side."

He looked stubborn for a moment, his dark eyebrows scrunching together in thought, but he finally nodded. Renee gestured to the bed, "Lie down, close your eyes. Your body will lull you sleep faster than you'll believe. Your eyes are so bloodshot."

John submissively did as he was told, resting his head on the soft pillow. Not caring about the blankets, he let one of his hands rest on his chest, and the other he extended out to Renee. She took the empty bottle and set it on the table, perching herself on the edge of his bed, looking at his tired face. He glanced down to his hand again, spreading his fingers in wanting. She caught on, and took his hand, intertwining her fingers with his and giving his hand a considerable squeeze.

The two exchanged smiles and no more words were spoken between them. Renee watched as John's eyes slowly fluttered closed, although a part of him was battling to keep them open. His face muscles relaxed, and in a few moments, he was peacefully asleep.

--

John awoke calmly, the sleep slowly wearing off and alertness taking its place. As his eyes focused, he saw Renee, still sitting where she had been earlier. She was still holding his hand, too. Noticing he was awake, she turned to look at him, giving him a big smile.

"No bad dreams?" she questioned sweetly.

John made a face in disbelief.

"No," he answered in wonder, "I guess not. What time is it?"

"Morning," Renee replied, "You made it John. Slept like a baby, no nightmares. You hardly even moved. The ODSTs are up; I heard them not too long ago. Mickey got scratched by Brute, I think, judging by the commotion that was just out there. I was waiting for them to wake you up."

"That guy is strange for bringing a cat into space and expecting it to behave normally," John chuckled, "Lord Hood stuck us with a bunch of misfits."

"We're not exactly what one would call normal, either," She shrugged.

"No, I suppose not," John answered, sitting up. He gave her a smile, tapping her on the nose, "You're the clumsiest little thing I've ever met, and Elsie and I are Spartans, normal doesn't even come close to fitting our description, and then add those crazy Hell-jumpers into the mix, and it's a recipe for disaster."

"Don't jinx us!" Renee exclaimed, "This isn't going to be any sort of disaster."

"A social disaster," John smirked, giving her a little peck on the cheek as he got out of bed, "I never said anything about the mission. That will be easy. However, these three weeks in Slipspace will be an awful test on our minds. Add another three to come back, well, they'll be escorting each and every one of us off the ship in straitjackets. That cat included."

Renee stared at him for a moment, but then John smiled. It was contagious. The two of them started laughing. It lasted for a good two minutes, an incredible mood-lightener. Renee found herself searching her mind for the last time they'd laughed together like that.

"I was worried," Renee beamed, "About you being quiet, but I can see you're in a much better mood."

John grabbed his shirt off the floor and tugged it over his head, the smile still fresh on his face; colour had come to his cheeks. He looked better tenfold than he had just a few hours ago when she'd found him sitting on his bed.

"Only because of you," John muttered, kissing the top of her head, "My little Sergeant."

Renee grinned sweetly up at him.

"My Master Chief," she giggled back, taking his hand that he extended out to her, and got to her feet, "So, how are we to entertain ourselves for day one?"

John led her from the room out into the hallway, not letting go of her hand. His brow wrinkled in contemplation, reaching up with his free hand to rub thoughtfully at his face. There was a faint outline of facial hair appearing on his chin and upper lip.

"Hmm," he said, "I'm not sure. Whatever you want to do."

"Well," Renee bit her lip, "When I woke up last night, and walked out into the hallway, I hadn't a clue where I was going. Now, my guess is that you have a better understanding of the ship's layout than I do, correct?"

"I suppose I have a good idea, yes."

"Can you show me around?" She asked, "I suppose it isn't that complicated, but I'd like to know where everything is... starting with the nearest bathroom."

"That's some place you'd want to know how to get to," John chuckled, "I'll be delighted to show you around. Then let's go to get something for breakfast, if you're up to it."

"Of course."

They rounded the corner of the adjacent hallway, when they saw a rather interesting sight. Mickey had the first aid kit off the wall, and was trying to balance it on his knee. It was open, and he was trying to open a wrapper of a band-aid with his teeth and one hand while attempting to hold the kit in place with the other.

He saw them approaching, and his expression changed instantly to one of relief.

"Jeez, Mick, what are you doing?" Renee walked ahead of John, hurrying to take the first aid kit before it fell on the floor. Mickey, much like a child, didn't say anything but held out his arm to show, something close to a pout on his face. His arm was littered with red, bleeding scratch marks.

"I'm guessing this wasn't Veronica?" she joked.

Mickey snatched the band-aid from his mouth, and proceeded to open it, shaking his head.

"Brute," he announced somewhat sadly, "Dutch decided it would be a good idea to sneak up behind me while I was holding him and proceed to make an array of creative alien noises. Scared the _shit _out of me and the cat - only Brute attacked the wrong person."

Renee laughed, shaking her head in disbelief.

"You guys act like your children," she remarked, glancing at John, w ho silently came up to stand behind her. He looked at Mickey's arm, surveying it as if to make sure there was nothing life-threatening.

"_They _do," Mickey muttered, putting the first band-aid on his arm. Renee continued to hold the first-aid kit out for him, "Dutch should know not to make frigging noises like that."

"What noises?" John spoke up, "Wort wort wort?"

"Yeah!" Mickey exclaimed, "He did that, then let out this roar that would've put a Brute to shame. Put my Brute into a cardiac arrest, though." He looked to Renee, "Pass me another band-aid, please?"

Renee did.

"So what are you two up to this morning?" Mickey asked, glancing up at John, "That was a good Elite impersonation, by the way. I'm impressed."

"I've heard them do it enough," John answered calmly.

"John was just going to show me around," Renee replied, "I don't know where to go in this ship."

"Ah," Mickey nodded, applying the second band-aid and Renee was already holding out the third, "These frigates may seem confusing for a while, but you'll know your way around in no time. Don't let anyone see your confusion, though. You're a Sergeant now, remember?"

Renee nodded.

"Don't let me keep you guys from your little tour," Mickey shrugged, "Lil Sarge, just give me a couple more band-aids and I'll be good to go. You can leave the first aid kit on the floor, I'll put it away."

"You sure?" Renee questioned, handing him the band-aids he requested.

"Yup," he nodded, "Get goin'. I'll see you later," he looked to John and gave him a nod, "Master Chief, sir... John is it? Can I call you John? Or Johnny?"

"It doesn't matter," John shrugged calmly.

"Alright, John," Mickey nodded, "You can call me Mickey. It's actually Michael, but everyone calls me Mickey. Just do it."

John nodded, reaching out for Renee's hand. She took it.

"See you later," John said, his expression was friendly, but his voice was rather dull. Renee echoed his goodbye, and Mickey waved at them as they walked down the hallway.

"Oh, and if you see Brute anywhere in your travels, tell me?" he called after them, "He ran off after hurting me."

"Will do," John answered.

"See, he's not that bad," Renee whispered to John, snuggling up close to him as they left, "Just give the ODSTs a chance."

"I suppose I'll have to, won't I?" John asked.

"Yes," she answered matter-of-factly, "And I don't want to hear any complaints."

"Is cryo an option?" He joked.

"Absolutely not!"

"No, don't worry, I wouldn't."

--

John successfully showed Renee around the majority of the frigate, and quizzed her at the end, demanding that it would be her that led the way to the cafeteria. The tour itself had been light and enjoyable, as they lazily picked their way down one hallway and another, John pointing out important destinations and showing her shortcuts. Small talk the two of them shared was happy and thoughtful. Not once did they stop holding hands, it was if someone had stuck the two hands together with superglue.

They fed off each other's good moods like oxygen, their cheerfulness on an unstoppable rise. One, looking at them at that moment, would have found it incredibly hard to believe that just the day before; there had been a heavy level of bitterness and confusion in the air between them that they had hardly spoken to each other. It was another test they had passed with flying colors, truthfully portraying to anything or anyone that tried to separate them would have a hard time doing so.

It was humanly impossible that two people could stay happy continuously, there would have to be slight quarrels and disagreements, but for John and Renee, they were well on their way to proving that together, they were able to overcome anything that life seemed to throw their way.

Their mood was so unbreakable, that, even as they arrived in the cafeteria, got their food and sat down at the table, they hardly paid attention to anything else but each other. The table was shared by the ODSTs, except for Buck, who was, according to Dutch, busy. The ODSTs had laughed together after this, hinting that there was some underlying truth as to why Buck wasn't at breakfast.

Mickey, who was seated across from John and Renee, watched them contemplatively as they ignored their food in front of them, perplexed at instead, talking quietly to each other, their heads close, eyes locked. John was absent-mindedly twirling his fork on his plate, but that was it as far as attention to his breakfast went.

"You guys might want to follow suit with Gunny and the Captain," Dutch spoke up after a moment, noticing what had Mickey's attention.

"Hm?" Renee tore her eyes away from John's, looking to Dutch with complete innocence.

"Get a room," Romeo grinned. Dutch elbowed him.

Renee's cheeks flustered, but she felt John grow tense beside her.

"Jealous?" John spoke up.

"No," Dutch answered, "Not at all. She's yours, bud. I'm just saying, and I think we would all agree, that, if you two want to start some mumbo-jumbo-jiggy-wiggy..."He never got to finish his sentence, before John interrupted him.

"What?"

"Way to confuse him with your retarded gibberish, Dutch," Mickey shook his head, looking to John, "Just ignore them, Johnny. Dutch here is just jealous cause he hasn't seen any action in months."  
Romeo snorted. Renee had to bite her lip to hold back her laughter.

"How do you know, Mick?" Dutch demanded, "What about you? I doubt anyone would want your sorry ass."

"Actually, I met up with this girl last week. She was really nice," he answered with a grin.

"Sure you didn't pick her up on the corner?"

Renee sighed, and looked to John as an argument ensued from there. He simply shook his head, not listening. She guessed that John knew what they were talking about, but he acted rather indifferent. Renee looked to Rookie, who was sitting at the end of the table beside Romeo, not saying a word. However, he had a smirk on his face, and would occasionally glance up at Dutch and Mickey, who had now moved on to the argument of size.

"Okay, Dutch, Mickey!" Renee announced, "Enough! I'm not one of the guys, here."

"You're a woman, the perfect one to consult," Dutch said plainly, "Size matters, doesn't it?"

"It shouldn't if you love someone, you twat!" Mickey objected.

"Doesn't it?" Dutch pushed, but Renee shook her head. This was getting embarrassing. She glanced to John, not sure if he knew what they meant or not. His expression hadn't changed, so there was no way of telling for sure.

"Listen here, _Corporal_," Renee grinned, exercising her authority, "You are in no place to ask questions. Especially ones like that. I don't even know if you could call that a question, more like an invasion of your personal comfort levels."

"Damn, she owned you!" Romeo cooed to Dutch.

"Alright, Lil' Sarge, I'm sorry," he gave her an apologetic salute, glancing to Mickey who was trying to hold back laughter, "What? You're a friggin' corporal too, don't laugh, dickhead."

Renee glanced to John again, and he was letting some emotion out now. He looked amused, and looked out of the corner of his eye at her then back at the ODSTs, a small grin on his lips.

"Hey, did anyone see that other Spartan?" Romeo spoke up, and looked to John, "You see her?"

"No," John shook his head, remembering Elsie. He hadn't seen her since yesterday.

"Elsie!" Renee exclaimed, remembering at the same time, "John, that's weird, do you know where she might be?"

"Still catching some z's maybe," Mickey suggested, "It's not that late in the morning. If you can call it morning, I don't know. Our bodies think it is morning, anyway."

"Do Spartans like their beauty sleep?" Dutch asked John.

"She _is_ a beauty," Romeo remarked thoughtfully, "She's a tank for a woman, but, her face is pretty. I like her eyes."

Dutch and Mickey nodded in agreement. Rookie of course, didn't do anything. Renee, curious to see John's reaction, looked to him. He didn't say anything.

"Bet she could kick your ass," Mickey pointed to Dutch.

"She could kick everyone's ass," he answered.

The ODSTs got back into their own conversation again, although this time about Elsie.

John listened, but didn't say a word. They weren't saying anything disrespectful about her, so he figured it would be best if he just kept quiet. He instead turned his attention to his food, which he hadn't really touched. He realized then how hungry he was, having not eaten for the past 24 hours.

As a result, the food on his plate was gone in a minute.

"You were hungry," Renee said quietly, eating some of her own breakfast. The ODSTs were still wrapped up in their own conversation, not listening to a word she or John would say to each other. John nodded, chewing thoughtfully, scraping the last crumbs from his plate onto his fork.

"Haven't eaten in a while," he muttered, smirking slightly, "I guess you could say I forgot."

"How could you forget you were hungry?" Renee seemed cautious.

"Old habit," he answered, "In the war, if I was out in the field, I never thought of eating."

"Well, think about it," she gave him a smile, "Keep yourself healthy."

Renee glanced back up to the ODSTs, and she saw Buck come walking into the cafeteria, wearing a simple t-shirt and a pair of jogging pants. It was odd to see him not wearing anything to represent his rank. He usually was proud to show it off, but this Edward Buck seemed nonchalant.

"Hey, look who it is!" Renee called out, "Gunny, you're late."

"Who said I was on a schedule?" Buck questioned, sitting down beside Mickey, who instantly asked him where he had been. Buck simply gave him a look, "None of your business."

"Captain want to see ya?" Romeo whispered.

"That's it, you're going to get my breakfast for me," Buck growled, jerking his thumb back over his shoulder, "Scram."

Romeo chuckled, getting up from the table.

"Make my coffee too!" Buck called after him, "Do they have expresso?"

"Just regular coffee, sorry Gunny."

"Okay," he answered, and then looked to Renee, "Lil' Sarge! You have authority over their sorry asses as well. You should make them fetch your breakfast and morning coffee."

"Nah," Renee grinned, "I'm not that lazy just yet."

"You calling me lazy?" Buck looked offended.

"Maybe."

"Psh! Don't insult me so," he said simply, "It isn't being lazy. All my ODSTs are beneath me in rank, and are mine to command and order around. I'm just putting them to good use." He looked to John, who was finished of his breakfast and had pushed his empty plate to the side, "How are you getting along, John? Improved from yesterday, I hope."

"Yes," John nodded curtly, "I'm better than before."

"Good, good," Buck looked thoughtful, reaching up to pat down the front of his hair that was standing on end, "Both you and Elsie were starting to piss me off with that no-talk stuff. I hope not to see that again, you better not pull that off once we're on the ground."

"No, we won't. Although Elsie's reasons for being quiet were different than mine, I can assure you we do not let anything get in our way in a serious situation," John answered, it sounding like a recorded message. He was actually surprised with Buck's talking to him, for just the other day it was Buck who quickly left when he and Elsie entered the Docking bay.

Buck still continued with the conversation.

"Hungry?" he gestured down at John's empty plate.

"I was," John shrugged, "Not now though."

"I'm starving," Buck said more to himself than anyone else, "I hope Romeo doesn't cheat me on anything. I want a..." He paused when Romeo set his breakfast in front of him, a heaping plate full of everything that was offered that morning, and a cup of hot coffee. Buck grinned, "Full plate..." he finished, "Thanks Romeo."

"Welcome, Gunny."

"See?" Buck looked to Renee and John, "Gotta love having authority."

---

After breakfast, Renee and John departed on their own different ways, with intentions on meeting up later. John went to take a shower, and Renee decided to test how much she remembered from the little tour he gave her earlier, and just go for a walk around the ship.

One of the things that were important during space travel was to maintain a healthy physique. Exercising everyday was vital, especially if you were a marine. Slipspace was only used for long distances, and one could be in Slipspace for a couple of weeks, months or even years – so it was important that if you were deciding to not go the cryo way and stay awake the entire time, that you would work out and not slack off.

Renee, besides deciding to go for a walk and head to the gym afterwards (if she could find it, of course), that she would try and find Elsie, who hadn't shown up for breakfast. Before she had started her stroll, she had found her way back to the sleeping quarters and went to Elsie's room. The door wasn't locked, and she wasn't there. The bed didn't even looked slept in; however her uniforms had all been put neatly in the locker, the door left open.

She eventually found Elsie in the gym. The Spartan III was lying on her back on one of the benches, bench pressing weights of a substantial amount. Despite this incredible amount of weight, Elsie didn't look at all fazed. Her face wasn't red, no veins popped out on her forehead or neck. However, she was soaked with sweat.

"Elsie," Renee said, approaching her carefully, "How much..."

"450," She replied instantly, breathing in between words, not stopping, "It's nothing... I'm actually... quite disappointed... it's kind of like... handing you a 2 pound dumbbell ... and saying... lift that. You won't get... a work out."

"Yeah, I guess," Renee remarked, although she watched Elsie with wide eyes. Never, as long as she could live, would Renee be able to lift even half of that weight. For a moment, she just watched Elsie continue in her weight-lifting, before asking a burning question, "How many reps have you done?"

"I stopped... counting at 500," Elsie grinned at her.

"So now I know why you weren't at breakfast," she mused.

"I already had breakfast. Much earlier..." Elsie did her last rep and set the weights on the holds, ducking underneath it and sitting up, wiping her face with a towel, "I hate Slipspace, I already said, I have to keep myself busy. This is how I do it."

"It's a good idea," Renee complimented her with a smile, "Although the top I can lift is a hundred fifty, I could keep you company if you like."

"Sure," Elsie answered, although she looked thoughtful, "But, wouldn't you sooner be spending time with the others? With John?"

"I can divide my time between them," Renee walked over to the weight rack, picking up a twenty pound dumbbell and giving it a couple of quick reps as a test, "Besides, John doesn't want to be with me _all _the time, I know that."

"Why wouldn't he?" Elsie raised an eyebrow, "It's not like he has anything else to do."

"John enjoys some time alone with his thoughts. For the longest time, during the war, his thoughts were his only companion. He does a lot of thinking, although sometimes I wonder what he all has to think about. I don't think his brain ever gets a rest."

"Especially now that he's back on the job," Elsie agreed, "It's giving both of us a bout of past memories, although it's probably worse for John. He's been through hell of a lot more than everybody on this ship combined."

"Didn't you say you are the last of your Spartan team?" Renee asked.

Elsie nodded solemnly.

"It was like Reach in the sense that they didn't have a chance," she shrugged, "There were five of us, myself included. Carrie 187, Benjamin 224, Steven 146, and David 295. We were assigned to a mission in the Beta Aurelius System, you probably never even heard of it. We were pitted against a group of insurrectionists that had paired with the Kig-Yar, all we had for weapons were our assault rifles. Our job was to nuke the planet on which they were stationed. I knew the moment we were assigned it, that it was a suicide mission." Elsie paused, bowing her head.

Renee was silent for a moment, but the curiosity got the better of her.

"What happened?" she asked softly.

"It was a failure," Elsie replied simply, "We were ambushed and outnumbered. They were all killed, except for me. I watched them die, every single one of them. And there wasn't a single thing I could do to try and help them. Steven, his wounds weren't fatal, but _they _wouldn't let me get near him. I tried, but I couldn't. Every time I would get close, _they_ would push me back again. Benjamin and Carrie were both killed instantly. The insurrectionists had the old mini-guns – old technology, but, they tore right through our armor. Carrie and Ben were leading; David, Steven and I were following. We in the back had enough time to get behind cover... but Carrie and Ben..." she trailed off, "David got caught in the mini-gun too. The UNSC found me, some month later. I'd been shot in the leg and my armor had been breached, so I had to survive on my own on the planet. I was surprised that they even came looking for me."

Renee was quiet for a moment, allowing Elsie's story to fully sink in.

"I'm so sorry, Elsie," she whispered.

"Don't apologize," Elsie snapped, her voice sharp at first, but it softened, "You had nothing to do with it. Besides, I'm not looking for pity. While we're exchanging stories, I heard you mention something about an incident that happened in 2535. Was that what put you into a coma?"

Renee nodded, and before she began to explain, she lifted up her uniform to show Elsie her scars that covered her stomach. Elsie's eyes widened.

"You look almost as bad as me," she remarked in disbelief.

"I was shot," Renee began, sitting down on the bench, "By an assault rifle – not friendly fire though. It was during the battle for Hydra in May 2535. John, my friends Corporal Smythe and Lieutenant Fisher and I were heading to our LZ, a Pelican had been sent for us. By that time all hope was lost for Hydra, so they were initiating immediate evac. However, we were ambushed by a stealth Elite. It killed Lieutenant Fisher, and then made a go for me. John, diverted it's attention. The two of them started grappling, but somehow, it got a hold of his assault rifle. So it shot me. I don't remember much... I blacked out shortly after. Turns out, they removed 30 bullets from my body. However, I fell into a coma. And that lasted for eighteen years."

"You're lucky to be alive," Elsie said.

"I am, aren't I?" Renee asked, "Well, I'm glad I'm alive. It gave me a whole fresh outlook on life, a whole new desire to live my life to the fullest. I don't know if this mission counts or not, but, I guess I feel good to be back."

"Me too," Elsie smiled, "Except this whole Slipspace thing. I might go into cryo before this is over."

"Oh, Elsie. Surely you can keep yourself occupied."

"Possibly," she shrugged, "But lifting weights that don't challenge me will get boring pretty fast," she changed the subject, "How is everyone today? Getting along well?"

"I suppose so, yes. Mickey got scratched by his cat though, because Dutch scared him – and Gunny is being teased for some time he spent with Veronica... he was late to breakfast this morning." Renee smirked, but it was clear that Elsie didn't get what was hinted.

"Hmm," was all she said – a pause, a thoughtful look came over her face, then, "That's why I think I'm better off here by myself. I don't exactly get along with the others. John may act like he doesn't mind it, but chances are he doesn't get along with them either. And I don't mind your friendship with the ODSTs. Just don't expect me to be around much whenever they're there."

"Oh, Elsie," Renee sighed, "Don't be like that. We're going to have to work together as a team anyway. John and I both missed you at breakfast this morning."

"I'll think about it," she shrugged in response, "They don't say anything negative about me, do they?"

"No. In fact they said quite the opposite, they remarked on how pretty you were."

Elsie let out a little laugh.

"Did they!?" she seemed amazed, "I've never been called that. Ever. They must have been talking about you. Or the Captain."

"No, they were talking about you, Elsie," Renee smiled, "I'm serious."

"Well, that's funny. They must be blind."

"Stop it!" Renee scolded, "You're beautiful. Don't think any different..." she paused to watch Elsie simply shake her head.

"I'm not," Elsie answered, "Sure, maybe my face is, or my eyes. People often say things about my eyes. But as a whole person, I'm ugly. The things I've done and the things I've seen make me ugly."

"If that was true," she replied after a moment, "Everybody in the UNSC would be a bunch of haggard monsters. John would be horrible! Even I would be a miserable looking fool."

"You have a way with words, Kilburn, I'll give you that," Elsie patted her shoulder, "But you're not going to convince me otherwise, so stop now and save yourself time."

"You're so stubborn."

"And damn proud of it," Elsie smirked, and glanced up towards the entrance of the gym, "Hey, John."

Renee looked up to see John enter the room, carrying himself in an important manner. He looked cool and collected, his facial expression simple yet deep in thought.

"Hello," he replied, his voice at first coming out deep and somewhat husky, "I thought I'd find you here."

"Me?" Elsie asked.

"Both of you," one corner of John's mouth curled up to form a little smirk, "What are you doing?"

"Just talking," Renee answered as he walked over to quickly kiss her on lips.

"Not working out?" John asked contemplatively, picking up the weight with one arm that Elsie had just been lifting, "Well, Elsie, you were."

"How do you know?" she joked, "Someone else might be able to bench that much."

"Hah, I doubt it," John playfully tossed the weights into the air and caught the bar, although Renee freaked, muttering a curse and cringing into an odd position. Elsie laughed at this.

"Don't do that!" Renee exclaimed, "That would put a hole through the floor or something!"

"Relax," John's voice was right in her ear, "You know I wouldn't drop it." There was a clang as he put the weight bar back on the holders – and even though Renee felt reassured, she couldn't help but cringe at the sound.

"You're too jumpy!" Elsie told Renee, "You need to hear more explosions and gunshots."

"Let's hope I don't have to," Renee answered, looking over her shoulder at John to make sure he wasn't going to toss and catch something else. He folded his arms on his chest, looking at the weights remaining on the weight rack and the ones already on the bar, calculating something.

"Only 550 pounds?" he said finally.

"Yeah," Elsie sounded disappointed, "And it won't even all fit on the bar."

"Hmm." He furrowed his brows, "At least it's only three weeks there and back. I certainly won't be doing any endurance reps."

Elsie laughed heartily.

"No, they should have stocked this gym better knowing that we were coming," she said, but she looked to Renee, reaching over and giving her bicep a squeeze, "You can enjoy it though."

"Want to have a little work out?" John asked Renee, starting to remove some of the weights off the bar and putting them back on the rack, "What's a comfortable amount for you?"

"I'll take it easy. Hundred twenty, I suppose," she replied softly.

"Hundred twenty," John muttered to himself, and he arranged the adequate amount of weights on the bar equally, "There you go."

Elsie got up off the bench, and stepped back.

"Let's see how many you can do!" she seemed interested.

Renee shrugged, letting out a little laugh as she lay down and grabbed the bar.

"Let's see."

She felt a little self conscious with John and Elsie watching her, but she lifted the bar off the holds, and her arms instantly began to quiver. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw John take a nervous step towards her. But she lifted the weights up fully, and then brought them down to her chest.

"One," Elsie counted aloud. It soon went to five, then ten, but with each rep, Renee felt her muscles quiver and burn more with protest. However, she wanted to impress John and Elsie. She kept going, but her pace gradually slowed and the harder it was to get the weights up from her chest and back down again. John must have been able to see her weakness, for just when she couldn't do it anymore, his hand shot out and held the bar suspended above her.

"Twenty three," Elsie announced.

"Let go," John said, and Renee did. He quickly put the bar back onto the holds, watching her as she simply lay flat on the bench, breathing deeply, "Are you alright?"

"Yes, of course," Renee sighed, wiping her arm across her sweaty forehead, "My arms feel like rubber though," she smirked, letting out a little laugh. She lifted one of her arms, and shook it loosely as if it belonged to a ragdoll, "Not that I'm complaining, though. That was good." As she went to sit up, however, she was overcome with a wave of dizziness.

"Whoa," she remarked, one hand coming to her forehead, intending to lay back down, but John's arm was about her shoulders in a second, preventing her in doing so. Elsie and John were right there, as if they knew something was wrong before she did.

Renee looked from Elsie's worried face, to John's, who surpassed Elsie's in expression.

"What's wrong?" he demanded.

"I'll go get some water," Elsie muttered, and she was gone in a second.

"I'm just dizzy," Renee murmured, "I went to sit up and I.."

"Lay down, slowly," John whispered, his voice calm as he guided her back down to lay on the bench, "You over-exerted yourself. We'll stick with thirteen reps, not twenty three. Do you feel like you're going to be sick?"

Renee shook her head.

"Not from here," she sighed, "If I stood up now though... I just might."

Elsie came back into the room with a bottle of water. She screwed off the cap and handed it to John, who lowered it to Renee's lips.

"Drink some," he said.

Renee nodded, doing as she was told, feeling stupid as John held the bottle for her like she was a little child. The cool water, however, made her feel instantly better. She met John's eyes and nodded, and he took the bottle away.

"Don't be treating me like this," Renee smiled, trying to make light of the situation, "You too, Elsie. I'll be fine... and give me that bottle, John. I can lift _that _much. I'll be okay now."  
She took the water from John and held onto his arm to pull herself back into a sitting position. Her dizziness came again, but not as bad as before. She didn't surrender, and it slowly faded. She looked up to the two Spartans.

"See?" she asked, "I'm sitting."

"Are you sure there isn't something wrong with you?" Elsie questioned, "More than just over-exertion? You were feeling weak yesterday, when we were taking off."

"Yes," John nodded in agreement, "I'm going to take you to the medical bay. You might have caught something."

"No," Renee snapped, her voice instantly strong, "This mission, there will be no trips to the medical bay. I over exerted myself, just like you said. Yesterday, it was my first time leaving Earth in eighteen years. Both times have a valid explanation. I don't need anyone else to confirm it."

John's expression hardened, his eyebrows furrowing, as if he was overcome with the urge to pick her up and take her to the medical bay against her will, but it subsided. However, he still protested against her.

"I'm not asking you to donate an organ," he said calmly, "I'm asking you to just let someone take a look at you..."

"No."

"Renee..." he wouldn't give up.

"No, John," She snapped, "I've had it up to my neck with doctors, hospitals, medicine. I laid in a hospital bed for eighteen years. I'm not going to have anything to do with a person of medical expertise ever again, not unless I'm dying... and even then..."

"You called me stubborn!" Elsie interrupted her, "Look at you, Miss Sergeant."

"With good reason!" Renee said, "You don't know how many times, aboard the Hercules, John brought me to the medical bay..."

"You enjoyed me carrying you," John whispered in her ear.

"So what if I did?"

"I could carry her, John," Elsie began, "She might not like it as much. I could hold her upside down, but, that would be cruel, considering she's dizzy."

"You better not," Renee laughed.

"I wouldn't," she gave her a joking smile.

Renee took another drink of water, then decided she would stand. Stand she did, with much success. Only a slight dizziness overcame her. John was eager to support her, lurking inches from her in case she fell, but Renee delivered him an incredulous look after taking a few steps.

"Why don't you just put me in bubble wrap if you're that worried?" She laughed lightly, watching John's face remain serious for a moment, until a little smirk found its way out onto his lips. He shrugged.

"Could be arranged."

"Mhm." Elsie agreed.

"No, you two, honestly, when I say I'm fine, I'm fine," Renee gave them an honest grin, "Would you have any reason to not believe me?"

John narrowed his eyes thoughtfully, but he gave her one of his rare, handsome smiles.

"No, I guess I don't."

--

**A/N: **Sorry about taking so long again, especially after I said I'd be getting back to my old updating schedule. However, I just spent the last week on the beach in the Bahamas, so, I must confess, I didn't have any time to write this. But here it is, finally. Could be kind of seen as a filler, I suppose, but it's all leading to the important stuff. Enjoy. -AB


	20. Day Seven

** Chapter 20 – Day Seven**

** September 4****th****, 2553 – UNSC Frigate **_**Midnight Sun**_** – Slipspace **

"One week down, two more to go," Dare said, her eyes glued to the holographic map of the Milky Way galaxy. There was a line, going from the solar system of Earth, all the way across to the Zeta Doradus system. It spanned two of the galaxy's spiralling arms, until the little dot certified that, in a cluster of stars, was their destination. Not taking her eyes off the screen, she asked Cortana, "Have you been able to get me an image of what resides within those coordinates?"

"No," the AI replied matter-of-factly, "We're too far away yet, I won't be able to get anything until we are at least a couple of days from our destination. Anyone who has travelled to that system is either missing, or, bluntly put, dead. We have no images to go on. Any information that was collected was filed as extremely classified. Not even I can access it. We don't know what's waiting for us."

"Running blind like this, I don't like it," the Captain furrowed her brows, shaking her head, "These people we're trying to retrieve, they must be damn important. This whole mission, we're walking on thin ice, and Hood knows it too."

"He gathered the best of the best for a reason," Cortana answered, "Don't fret. We have the Chief with us. For him it will be a walk in the park."

"Can you be sure?" Veronica turned to look at her holographic figure that posed daintily on the AI panel, "Can you be absolutely sure?"

"Not a hundred percent, but I _am _confident that we will be successful."

Dare sighed, biting her lip. She glanced back over her shoulder to Buck, who was leaning silently against the wall. His hands were buried in his pockets, and the front of his hair was being rebellious. His face was outlined with a five o'clock shadow.

"Don't worry, Veronica," he told her, "You'll do fine. You always do."

"Being modest, are we?" she asked, slightly amused.

"Just don't fret so much," Buck shrugged, "Like Cortana said, we have Master Chief."

"I thought you hated him, and vice-versa."

"He might not be the most approachable person alive, but he's been through a lot. He knows how to handle every situation; he's been through things we can't even think of. He was on the Ark, for Christ's sake," Buck chuckled, "And made it back alive."

"He was thought dead for a while, wasn't he?"

"Yep, but he made it back to Earth and lived with Sergeant Kilburn in secret, the clever bastard. Until that Nathan guy released some video... I still pity that guy's hand. John mangled it!"

"He deserved it!" Veronica exclaimed, "Wouldn't have you done the same thing?"

"I would've broken the guy's nose, maybe, yeah," Buck shrugged, "But not twist his hand out of shape."

"If I tried to break his nose, I would've killed him."

John's voice came from the doors of the bridge, and Veronica and Buck looked to see him enter the room calmly, his hands in his pockets and shoulders rounded. He raised an eyebrow at Buck, "I think a broken hand is an easier thing to get away with than murder, don't you think?"

"Yeah," Buck answered, "Guess you're right."

"Anything I can help you with, Chief?" Veronica spoke up.

"Just coming to see how we're doing," John's voice still remained soft and mellow. He walked up to the holographic screen, gazed across it, then looked down at Cortana. Dropping to his knees so he could be more at "eye-level" with her, he gave the AI a smile.

"How are you doing?"

"I'm managing," Cortana replied, "Actually I'm a little bored. Not nearly enough for me to do," she shrugged, "How about you?"

As John continued his conversation with the AI, Buck exchanged a weird look with Veronica. He wouldn't dare say anything, but he noticed John was acting weird. Not at all formal, just unusually nonchalant. Veronica just shrugged at him.

"I'm going to get a coffee," she said, "Wait here."

Buck decided to relish the moment he was alone with the Spartan.

"Hey, John," he called across the room to him, not moving from his place at the wall. John looked to him, and didn't say anything. Buck waited, "...what's up?"

"The ceiling," was the Spartan's reply.

Buck sighed. Seriously...

"No, I mean, how are you doin'? Something wrong? I mean, you seem, weird."

John got to his feet, looking thoughtful. He turned, and looked intent on leaving without saying a word, but finally, he looked at Buck and said simply:

"I don't know."

Buck made a face.

"Wanna talk?" he offered, "I'm a member of your team. I won't say a word to anyone."

Although John was sceptical about that, he felt obliged to tell Buck. He was surprised that he'd noticed, and on top of that, even cared.

"I'm worried." John stated.

"Worried?" Buck echoed, "Come on, man, I'm not psychic. You're going to have to give me more than two word answers here."

"About Renee," the Spartan continued after a moment, "She's acting different. I think she's ill."

"You're acting different too."

"Because I'm _worried_," John snapped.

"Oh," Buck said with a shrug, "Well, did you try talkin' to her? Maybe just hand her penicillin or something. The flu's going around. She might've caught it."

"She won't talk," John said, "To me, or Elsie, or anyone. She just keeps telling me, 'just give me time', or 'I'll be okay in a day or so'. I don't know what she means."

"She probably just needs space," Buck shrugged, "Women are like that. If they're sick they just want to be left alone. There are some that like to be babied and waited on, but, Renee doesn't seem like that type. If she's sick, she's just battling it herself. I mean, Veronica's done that to me more than once, and not because she was sick, just because she liked to be cruel and keep me in the..."

"Edward Buck, shut your mouth before I do," Veronica came striding back into the bridge with her coffee, "Sorry Chief, he likes to run his mouth, as you already know."

John didn't say anything for a moment. He watched Dare as she walked to her chair in front of the holographic panel, sitting down with her cup of coffee. He remembered how Dr. Halsey loved her coffee; she'd have it with her no matter what she was doing. She didn't mind drinking it cold, either, he mused.

Snapping out of the memory, he turned to look to Buck, who had folded his arms on his chest. He'd been gazing at Veronica, but he met John's eyes. Giving him a sympathetic look, Buck whispered so low that he knew Veronica wouldn't be able to hear:

"We'll talk again, John."

John heard him, and gave him a curt nod. He left the bridge without a further word, Buck watched him go. He turned back to Veronica, and saw she was looking at him with a strange expression on her face.

"What were you two talking about?" she demanded, "That involved you having to bring up how I supposedly treated you horribly, which I didn't..."

"Renee's ill," Buck interrupted, "Or so John thinks. He's just worried about her because she's keeping to herself. I simply told him women like to do that sometimes."

"You could have done that without making up little stories," Dare raised a brow, but then her face became serious, "Kilburn didn't look well the day we left. Someone should let a doctor take a look at her. We have one aboard?"

"Yes," Cortana answered for Buck, "Dr. Danielle Carey. Her record is all good."

"Thank you Cortana," Veronica answered, "Kilburn, if she is sick, should be smart enough to figure out she should try and feel better before we reach our destination. It's not exactly like we could spare any personnel, given our limited numbers."  
"Chief will talk to her," Buck shrugged, "I'm sure."

Renee sat on her bed, chewing her thumbnail. She stared at the floor, perplexed. A million things were running through her mind. It was now the seventh day that they had been in Slipspace; they were light-years away from Earth. It was also her seventh day that she had been feeling not herself. She hadn't quite felt like this before, it was like a bad case of anxiety topped with flu symptoms. She'd felt dizzy countless times since that incident in the weight room. Nausea had also dropped by to pay her a visit on more than one occasion.

Her overall appearance was deteriorated. Her face looked pale, and she felt constantly anxious. Every little thing made her jump, made her panic. However, she felt fatigued nearly all the time. Sleep seemed to be her best friend at the moment. It was all she wanted to do, it seemed. Sleep, sleep, sleep... then maybe a nap.

This flu, this horrible flu, it was eating away at her – but she didn't want help. She was sure that it would go away by itself in good time. The last thing she wanted to do was to have John, Elsie or anyone else worrying about her. Or have to have a doctor look at her. She wanted nothing to do with anything medical related. She didn't want a prescription, she didn't want medical orders.

This would all go away, this flu... if it was the flu...

The door to her room slid open, and Renee jumped at the sound, whipping around to see her intruder. She saw it was Elsie, whose expression instantly changed from calmness to one of worry.

"Renee," she said, "You didn't come to lunch today... I came to see..."

Renee didn't hear the rest that Elsie said; she fell into a thoughtful stupor again, as one particular thought came to her mind.

"Could you tell me...what day it is?" Renee asked, her voice seeming far off.

"What?" Elsie demanded.

"What day is it?" she repeated.

"September 4th, I think."

Elsie watched Renee pause, think her words over. Her lips mouthed words, as she looked to be deeply thoughtful. Finally, she stopped, and leaned forward, running her fingers through her short hair, cause it to rebel and defy gravity. She heaved a heavy sigh, deep, depressing.

"Two days," Renee whispered to herself, feeling the horror creeping up on her. She looked around the room, until finally looking up to Elsie, meeting her eyes with an expression of disbelief on her face, "Two days."

"I don't understand," Elsie shook her head, "I think you should go see the doctor."

"Two days," she repeated, nodding to herself, "Thank you, Elsie."

Elsie stood there, watching Renee, as she repeated the words again to herself like she was a crazy woman. She let herself drop onto her bed, resting her head on the pillow, clenching it tightly with one hand, as she stared off into space, murmuring the words over and over again.

"Two days..."

Elsie walked into the target room, which was echoing with the sounds of gunfire. The single person practicing their aim was tall, huge. She didn't have to guess who it was. She'd finally found him, after searching high and low throughout the entire frigate.

"John!" she tried to make herself heard over the sound of the firing pistol, the sharp cracks that tore through the air, accompanied by the sound of the shells clattering to the floor, however, the latter was almost drowned out completely. Her advanced Spartan hearing, however, picked up every noise.

She watched John, having not heard her, fire the last bullets into the target, his aim perfect, his stance almost nonchalant, overflowing with the confidence that he would make every bullet count. When the last bullet was dispelled from the chamber, and its shell bounced to the floor, silence took over the room. Elsie took this opportunity to speak before John slapped in a new clip and continued in his massacre of the target.

"John!"

His head whipped in her direction upon hearing her urgent voice, and stared at her as she stood awkwardly in the doorway. For a moment, he almost looked startled, but he quickly got control of his facial expressions.

"Yes?" he asked, his voice remaining calm, but his attention was clearly on her and nothing else. He slowly lowered the pistol, pivoting on one foot in her direction.

Elsie let out a deep sigh, leaning against the doorframe, not sure where to begin. Either way, John wouldn't like what she was about to tell him. She knew that he was worried for Renee, and this news she was about to inform him was only going to further his concern.

"I know she insists against it, but I think Renee needs to see a doctor, immediately."

"Why?" John felt his heart take a vicious leap into his throat, as he battled for his self-control, to keep his face professionally composed, "What's wrong?"

"I found her in her room; she was just sitting on her bed. She had this far-off look in her eyes, like she wasn't quite with it. She didn't say anything to me, except to ask what day it was. I told her, and then she started repeating something about 'two days'. I have no idea what she's talking about! She doesn't look well, John."

"Two days?" John muttered to himself, trying to make sense of it.

"Do you have any idea what she could mean by it?"

"No," he answered, setting his pistol down and walking towards Elsie, "She's in her room?"

"Yes," Elsie answered as he brushed past her out the door, and she was quick to follow him, "When I left her she looked almost haunted, or frightened... I've never seen anything quite like it before, since there was no reason for her to be that we know of..."

It was a quick walk to Renee's room, Elsie found it almost difficult to keep up with John, his strides were so long that he seemed to fly down the corridors. His pace didn't even slow as he slammed the button to open Renee's bedroom door. It was like they couldn't open fast enough. John had wedged himself into the room before they'd even fully opened.

Looking over John's shoulder, Elsie saw Renee had been looking inside the contents of her locker, however spun around upon John's abrupt entrance, and was now staring at both of them with a betrayed look on her face, which grew when she met Elsie's eyes. Elsie knew instantly what the look meant – it was saying "how dare you bring John here".

"Renee," John broke the silence, "I know you've been lying to me. You aren't well."

"It's nothing time won't cure," She said plainly, shutting her locker door with a slam. She'd seemed to gather more self-control than when Elsie had walked in on her, and she didn't look at all pleased.

"Tell me at least what's wrong," John demanded.

"I don't know," Renee turned around to face him, an honest look on her face, "It could be a couple of things, but what one it is, I'm not sure. If I knew, I'd tell you."

"A doctor can easily diagnose what's wrong," he kept his voice low, feeling frustration ebbing through him, "We have one aboard. If you stop being so stubborn and just go..."

Renee bit her lip, not saying anything. She glanced past John to Elsie, indicating that she wanted to talk to John in private. She expected for Elsie not to be that quick to clue in, but Elsie took the hint, muttered an apology and left the room.

John looked down at Renee, still waiting for her response. She reached out and took him by the arms, clenching the fabric of his t-shirt sleeves, closing her eyes for a moment, almost bracing herself.

"I'm scared, John," she whispered, "I don't want to go, because I'm _scared_."

"What are you scared of?" John asked, trying to remain calm, "I will come with you if you want me to, if it's the doctors... I..."

"No," Renee shook her head, "I'm scared to find out what's wrong with me, because if it is what I think it is..."

"What do you think it is?"

Renee met his eyes, staring into them for the longest time. She knew the words that she wanted to say, but couldn't bring herself to open her mouth to speak them. It felt like her throat closed itself off, like her larynx knew what she was going to say and didn't want to obey her.

The whole time, John waited, looking into her eyes, not moving a muscle, just waiting for her answer. Slowly, as she kept her silence, she watched John's features transform with the passing of seconds. His confidence slowly falter, his concern take its place. His eyebrows knitted closer together, his mouth grew more tightly pressed, and his eyes narrowed.

Finally, Renee remembered to breathe. In the instant her mouth opened to suck in a breath, the words came rushing out in a hushed whisper, knowing that John would be able to hear it perfectly.

"I might be..." she started, not wanting to finish. She hoped John would catch on and she wouldn't have to say that word she was dreading, so she repeated herself, "I might be..."

She said it the second time and knew by John's face that she didn't have to finish. What little color John had in his face, left. His mouth fell open ever so slightly, his face struggling to find the right expression. He bit his lip, hard, and looked up to the ceiling, around the room, then finally back at her.

"What makes you think that?" his voice was professional. It sounded like he was addressing her out on the field.

"It's been two days, since..."

"Does anyone else know? Does anyone else suspect this?" John interrupted.

"No, I don't think so," Renee hugged herself, feeling suddenly alone. She could tell by John's voice that he wasn't happy.

"Go to the doctor," he ordered her, "Find out for sure. Right now. If you are, we very well might have to turn around and take you back to Earth."

"I'm not going back to Earth," Renee said, feeling numb, although she approached the door, "I will finish this mission."

No reply from John. He simply ushered her out of the room. Elsie was waiting across the hallway, leaning against the wall with her arms folded on her chest.

"Do me a favor, Elsie, and take Renee to the medical bay, please," John's voice was low, and it had an awkwardness to it. He gently pushed Renee towards Elsie, who nodded, seeming somewhat confused by his far-off look.

"Sure," she said.

"I need to go think," John muttered, turning and going off in the opposite direction, saying nothing else. He never even gave them a second glance.

Renee went to the medical bay as she was instructed. Elsie had walked her there, but had remained silent the entire time, even when she had walked into the medical bay. Elsie didn't even bother to say goodbye as she turned around and left.

The layout of the medical bay was similar to that of the ones in the Halcyon class cruisers, although of course not as big. Rows of beds, with starched white sheets, were empty. All the bedside equipment went unused, for no one was injured.

_Let's keep it that way,_ Renee thought.

She willed herself to keep her self confidence as she walked down in-between the beds, towards the offices and the operating rooms, despite the fact that her heart was pounding in her chest, and her stomach was doing somersaults. The thought of what could be the cause of her flu symptoms made her sick, but she thought like John, and kept her face controlled, shoved all the emotions inside and kept them there.

Renee soon found the ship's doctor – who introduced herself as Dr. Danielle Carey, a tall, lean, dark-skinned woman with green eyes and long flowing black hair. She was young, and fairly pretty, with prominent cheekbones and a wide, attractive smile with perfect teeth.

She was dressed in civilian clothes, a purple long-sleeved shirt and black dress pants and simple black flats, but of course had the signature white lab coat and the stethoscope around her neck, with a pen or two in her front pocket.

Dr. Carey was friendly, and ushered Renee into her office, where, although Renee felt nervous, came out with her symptoms, and told Dr. Carey of her suspicions. The doctor asked questions, Renee answered, the whole time struggling to keep herself fully composed.

"There's only one way to know for sure what is wrong with you," Dr. Carey explained, "Your symptoms could apply to either the flu or pregnancy. I'm going to have to get you to take a urine test for me, and I can confirm from that which one it is, alright?"

Renee took a deep breath, but nodded.

"For your sake, being a marine," Carey said, "Let's hope it is the flu. For if it isn't, you'll be sent home. You're aware that it's against protocol to stay enlisted in the UNSC if pregnant, correct? Even if you aren't in a physically demanding position."

"Yes, I know," Renee replied softly.

"And you're a sergeant, correct?" Dr. Carey handed Renee an empty plastic bottle, which she took numbly.

"Yes. Promoted days ago, actually."

Dr. Carey gave her a sympathetic smile.

"The bathroom is just outside the office."

Waiting for Dr. Carey to process the results was the most nerve-wracking moments in Renee's life. She had been instructed to sit in the office and wait. Just wait. Renee couldn't sit still, whether it was rocking forward and backward on her chair, or chewing her nails, or tapping her feet on the floor. Her heart was pounding steady in her chest, her stomach performing an array of acrobatics.

Her mind was working on overdrive, so many thoughts and fears alike ran through her head. She didn't want to be sent home, she wanted to stay aboard and complete this mission with John, Elsie and everyone else. She wanted to prove that she deserved her rank of Sergeant, prove to John, prove to Elsie, prove to Buck and all the other ODSTs that she was worthy.

What if Dr. Carey came through the doors and shattered her hopes? What would she do, if her speculations were true, that she was two days overdue because she was pregnant with John's child? What would John have to say? Would he accept it, or would he shy away from her, would he leave her? Would he be afraid? What would the others think of her, stupid enough to let something like this happen?

She could hear their words now, "What were you thinking?" "You're going to have to go home,"...

When Renee saw the doors open and Dr. Carey come back into the room, her heart leapt into her throat and she shot to her feet, and she could feel all the color leaving her face. For a moment, she staggered, but regained her balance and stood as rigid as a board, not moving even to breathe.

She met Dr. Carey's green eyes, scanned her face for any evidence. When she saw her lips part into a little smile, Renee felt her knees grow weak.

"It came back negative," Carey said ever so softly.

Renee breathed for the first time in seconds, and exhaled, dropping to her knees in joy. Relief swept through her, and she couldn't hold back the smile that came to her face. It broadened, and she threw her head back, and began to laugh. Running her fingers through her hair, she continued to laugh until tears of relief rolled down her cheeks.

Renee left the medical bay with the diagnosis of a simple flu, and was given some pills to alleviate her nausea and dizziness, with the only instruction being to take them and rest. She felt as light as a feather as she made her way down the hallway, as elegant as a queen and as powerful as a Spartan. Although she combated a faint sick feeling as she went, it hardly brought her down. Never before had she been so relieved, and she could hardly wait to tell John.

As she was on her way to finding John, she saw Rookie walking towards her, coming from the weight room. He met her eyes momentarily, but looked back down at the floor. Renee remembered that Rookie had spoken to her once, and decided to try her luck again.

"Hey Rookie," she said quietly, stopping. A friendly smile was happily worn on her face.

He stopped, giving her a little smile, salute and a nod, in that order, looking rather timid. He fidgeted slightly, but tried to look as comfortable around her as possible.

"Did you see the Master Chief around recently?" she asked.

Rookie met her eyes momentarily and shrugged, looking away. Renee, unsatisfied with this answer, continued to stand and look at him. He glanced up to her again, realizing that she wanted a better response.

"Yes, Sergeant," Rookie spoke, his voice scratchy, like he had a throat infection. However, it contained softness to it. His thumb jerked up over his shoulder in a quick awkward motion, "That way."

"Thank you," Renee answered, grateful, "Do you know where he was headed?"

Rookie shook his head instantly, and gave her an apologetic shrug, his gaze dropping to his feet.

"Thanks anyway, Corporal." She told him.

He nodded, and gave her a little salute, and continued on his way. However, as Renee started down the hallway, she barely heard Rookie's voice as he addressed her again.

"Sergeant?"

She turned around and saw he'd stopped to look over his shoulder at her.

"Yes?"

"I heard you weren't feeling well," he said in almost a whisper, "I hope you get better soon."

Renee couldn't help the small smile that came out on her lips.

"Thank you, Rookie."

John sat in his room, on his bed. His head sagged down onto his chest, his brows scrunched, deep in thought. He felt nervous, the emotions that were going through him were quite powerful, and was doing a good job of bothering him, something he didn't usually let his emotions do.

This was a big deal.

Just the thought of Renee being pregnant made him feel sick. He didn't want her to be the lab rat, to be pregnant with a half-Spartan child, something that hadn't been conceived before. Who knew what would happen. Dr. Halsey had conducted her tests, but there was no way she could know for sure.

That's when the doors to his room opened. He turned around abruptly, to see Renee walk in the room. He shot to his feet, scanning her face for any pre-spoken answers, his heart leaping into his throat. Her brown eyes didn't carry any emotions to beware; in fact, she looked rather calm as she stood before him at her little height, folding her arms behind her back as if she were reporting for duty.

John could feel the color leaving his face despite the positive expression Renee carried. He was always negative, he was the one who always thought the glass half-empty, the one to think the worst before considering the better outcomes of a situation. It was just how he'd come to be over the years, negative and cynical, and of course, now he thought the worst. His mind betrayed him by flashing him an image of a deformed infant, lying still on a table.

"It's the flu," Renee said after a moment, her voice small, her mouth breaking into a smile, "That's all it is."

"The flu," John echoed, nodding. His body had gone numb in those few seconds, but the feeling came sweeping back into his limbs the moment he heard those words. He exhaled deeply, and took her into his arms. He felt her warm cheek rest against his chest and her arms wrap around him the best they could as she returned the hug. John wanted to squeeze her with joy, but knew it weren't possible.

He let out a chuckle, kissing the top of her head.

"I'm relieved," he heard her say, her voice muffled.

John held her out at arm's length, unable to hold back the smile that came to his face.

"So am I."

Renee smiled, letting out a deep breath also. They shared a quick kiss.

"What are the doctor's orders?" John questioned.

"Take pills and rest."

"Well, that's what you should be doing, resting," he told her.

"I couldn't without telling you first," Renee shook her head, "Am I not the only one that feels relieved? Do you truly feel relieved, or were you hoping..."

"I feel relieved," he confirmed, "I wasn't hoping for anything but for you to be alright. I didn't want you to have to be sent home."

"It would have made my cutting my hair rather pointless, hm?" Renee joked, letting out a little laugh, "I'm staying here, John. Right with you, where I belong," she tugged at his collar playfully.

"Good," he murmured, and he bent his head to share another tender kiss with her. The relief was still ebbing through him. There would be no half-Spartans. She wouldn't have to be a lab-rat. Things could continue peacefully, with no complications.

John walked into the cafeteria, attracted to the fair amount of noise he'd heard from the hallway. Sure enough, he found the ODSTs seated at one of the tables, a few of them were playing cards, the others were just talking. Mickey, of course, had Brute with him.

Buck was the first one to note John's approach.

"Spartan in the room!" he called out loudly, but his face had a friendly expression as the others turned to look at him. John surprisingly received an array of 'hellos' as he approached the table, and Buck gestured to the empty seat beside him, telling him to "Sit down and join us".

The relationships between him and the ODSTs had noticeably taken a turn for the best, and John wasn't quite sure how or why it had done so. Nothing life-changing had happened between them, just one day the ODSTs appeared to be nicer towards him, Buck included, which was very odd.

"You don't look so worried anymore," Buck observed, looking to John, "I assume things are alright now?"

John looked around the table. Rookie, Romeo and Dutch were playing a game of cards, and Mickey was sitting with Brute on his lap, watching. He'd taken the band-aids off his scratches, and now they were only faint pink outlines on his arms. Brute seemed to have nothing against Mickey like before, and they seemed to be getting along just fine.

Then John remembered Buck had spoken to him. He looked back to the Gunnery Sergeant, and saw he was still looking at him, waiting for an answer, although he had a slightly confused look on his face.

"Yes, things are better," John answered, "I made her go to the doctor, and it's just the flu."

"That's good," Buck nodded, "I told ya, what else did you think was wrong with her? It's not uncommon for people to get sick."

This is where John wasn't sure how to continue.

"I just had a couple of speculations," he shrugged, "I'm negative, so..."

"Did you think she was going to up and die on you?" Buck asked rhetorically, "You really have to stop being so uptight about things and just relax. For a guy that doesn't have much to lose, you sure do worry a lot."

"I do have a lot to lose," John answered calmly; "I'd like to think Renee counts as a lot."

"Yeah, Gunny, give him a break," Dutch spoke up, looking up momentarily from his hand of cards, "Are you gonna say that Veronica doesn't mean anything to you? You know you wouldn't know what to do with yourself if she ever left."

"And Sergeant Kilburn is probably all the guy has," Romeo speculated, glancing up to Buck and John.

"That and a million dollars," John muttered, resting his head on his hand.

"Million dollars, you say?" Mickey looked up, and Brute meowed.

"You're not serious," Buck's head whipped around to face John, whose expression hardly changed as he managed a nod.

"Serious," he replied, "The pay of a Master Chief Petty Officer tends to add up after thirty years."

Buck exhaled, looking sceptical.

"And I suppose you want nothing to do with wealth?"

"Not a thing." John glanced around the table as his reply gained several groans and shaken heads from the ODSTs.

"Why do they even bother paying you, then?" Dutch looked up, "You realize, if you handed us a million dollars and we split it between all of us, what we'd all be able to do with it? You don't want anything? Not even a year supply of beer? Maybe a nice car? Clothes? I suppose it's hard to find clothes that fit you, you'd probably have to get them custom made... but... you're trying to tell us that you're a millionaire, and you're still _here_? In the middle of nowhere? If I even had half of a million dollars I would be looong gone."

John simply shook his head, accompanying it with a shrug.

"I've been _here _since I was six years old," he replied thoughtfully, "I don't know much else."

"Now, that's a real veteran!" Romeo remarked.

"Yeah, he is a veteran," Buck spoke up, folding his arms on his chest, "Compared to him, we're rookies..." he trailed off, glancing to Rookie, "And you, you're still in boot camp."

Rookie's mouth twitched into a smile, and he gave Buck thumbs up as the others laughed at his little joke. John even smiled, feeling somewhat comfortable sitting with the ODSTs, a feat that wasn't possible just a week ago. If he'd been seated with them back then, he would have desired to kill Buck and probably give a good ass kicking to the rest, but now, John had to admit, they weren't that bad. They had their faults, of course, but no one was perfect, not even him.

Brute decided to leave Mickey's arms, and jumped up onto the table, right into the middle of Romeo, Dutch and Rookie's card game. The three of them groaned as Brute knocked over the deck of stacked cards on his way down the table to approach John.

"Mickey, can't you hold onto that cat for one second?" Romeo complained.

"I've been holding him for the past hour," he snapped back, "Brute's going to..." he watched the cat as he walked over to John, "Pay a visit to the Spartan."

The ODSTs all turned to watch as Brute walked right close to John, before sitting back on his haunches in front of him on the table. John remained still as the cat made eye contact with him, staring at him rather curiously. Then, Brute tilted his head to the side and let out a meow.

John furrowed his brows, not sure what he meant, but Brute meowed again, and got back onto all fours again lazily, and walked forward, made a little jump and bumped John's face with his head, purring all the way.

"Pfft!" John leaned back, wiping his mouth of cat fur.

"He likes ya, John!" Mickey laughed.

"Gave you a kiss," Buck said thoughtfully, rousing chuckles from the others.

John laughed slightly, shaking his head as he reached out and gently patted Brute on the head.

"I've had better," he remarked, a smile on his face.

The ODSTs all "oooed" at this, and John just raised an eyebrow.

"Don't do that," John frowned, but it couldn't stay for long as another smile came on his face, "I've heard you guys talk much worse than that."

"You haven't heard us at our worst!" Buck exclaimed, "Dutch, Mickey, Romeo, you get a few beers into them and they'll tell ya about every single girl they slept with, in detail. I've heard Dutch's story more than once about the time he got so wasted that he couldn't even kiss the girl let alone try and have sex with her!"

"I couldn't help it," Dutch shrugged, "And it wasn't like she tried to help me out either, just laughed at me until I passed out, and when I woke up she was gone."

"Maybe you shouldn't get drunk then," John suggested honestly, now scratching Brute beneath the chin, "I've never been drunk, but I don't think it would make anything better."

"Listen to the Chief!" Romeo elbowed Dutch, "He must know all. Do you know as much about women as you do war?" he asked John.

"Not exactly," John smirked, "You can't compare the two."

"Good point, John, good point," Buck agreed with a nod, "Although, both can give you a good poundin' if you're not careful."

"Ditto," Mickey nodded.

"I'd drink to that!" Dutch laughed.

"Of course you would," Romeo shook his head, "You're hopeless, Dutch."

"We gotta get you drunk, John," Buck announced, pointing a finger at him almost accusingly, "Something tells me you would be hilarious. We all could get drunk... we have another two weeks in Slipspace, and tomorrow if we're hung over we could just sleep."

"This is coming from _you_, Gunny?" Mickey exclaimed.

John thought back to 2535, on Reach when he had gone to the bar to retrieve Renee. She'd been drunk, and he remembered how different she'd been, how she did things she normally wouldn't do, how she'd thrown up outside on the sidewalk. It didn't make sense to him why anyone would want to drink something that would have that effect.

At the same time, John wondered if it would have any effect on him as a Spartan, and that made him curious.

"It gets rid of all your worries," Buck was explaining as John raised the bottle of beer to his lips, "It does you good, John, I promise. You just get into this 'I don't give a fuck' mood and it's all great. You have PTSD, like Rookie, right? It makes him get his mind off everything, doesn't it, Rookie?"

John took a long drink of the beer, savoring the taste. It wasn't the best tasting thing in the world, but it was tolerable. It was late, after mostly everyone had gone to sleep, and Buck, John, and the rest of the ODSTs were sitting in the cafeteria, a fair amount of alcohol on the table. Buck had found it, and wouldn't tell anyone where he found it in storage. All that matters is that we have beer, he had said.

"It's too bad," John announced, and the ODSTs all muttered their approvals, and he took another drink, "Gets my mind off things, you say?"

"Like you wouldn't believe," Buck said, taking a drink of his own beer, "Just have a few and it should be enough, say three or four maybe, but then again I don't know. You're a big guy."

"I just hope you know that if I drink this, and it makes me go nuts," John joked, "You're all dead, none of you can stop me if I decide to think you're one of the Covenant," he chuckled to himself.

"Shit, never thought of that," Dutch remarked.

"I don't think it will make you go nuts," Buck didn't sound worried, "Just take it slow and you'll know whether you want to have another."

"There are aggressive drunks, Gunny," Mickey chuckled, "And I think he's the last one you'd want to be dealing with if he gets aggressive _and _drunk."

"Anyone ever think we could get in shit for this from the Captain?" Romeo spoke up, "Or Lieutenant Lyons. He seems to be a stiff."

"It's just a few beers," Dutch shrugged, "And if anything happens, we're blaming Gunny."

"Just keep it down, and don't start any fights, and we'll be all good," Buck shrugged, "That applies for you too, John."  
"I'm not about to get up and dance," John sighed, taking another drink.

"That would be hilarious!" Mickey laughed.

"All I want to do is get my mind off some things," he replied, glancing to Buck, "To just forget about everything for a while."

John was slumped on the table, resting his cheek against it. In front of him, six empty bottles of beer seemed to fade in and out of focus. He felt slow, his limbs felt numb, and everything seemed to be in slow mode. He heard the ODSTs voices as they talked rowdily, although none of them had drank as much as he had.

So, he mused, this is what it was like to be drunk. His vision was messed up, he was sluggish, and every movement was uncalculated and clumsy – but beyond all that, John felt surprisingly calm and carefree. He just allowed his cheek to rest against the cool tabletop, his mind mostly blank. He needed to piss, but even then he didn't care. He was perfectly content to just sit there, not moving, stuck in this lazy stupor. John loved it. Everything from the past, everything that happened, all the battles, all the deaths he'd seen and caused, they seemed to go in and out of his mind, but with no effect. He just didn't care, he even felt like laughing.

Even the most recent trials and incidents were no more than a muse. Hilarious even, something that he wished to tell the ODSTs and laugh with them about it. He wanted to thank Buck for introducing him to this, this escape.

"John's pretty mellow," John heard Dutch say, or at least he thought it was Dutch. But the voice was slightly distorted. It kind of sounded like Rookie, no, wait, he didn't even know what Rookie sounded like...

"He's piss loaded," another voice said. Buck, John was certain, "He drank six. I only had two. This is the first time he's drank, too..." a pause, some unimportant talk, and then Buck spoke to him, "John, how are you doing?"

"Amazing," John muttered, not lifting his head from the table, "I... don't care about anything..."

"I told you. It's a good thing, isn't it?"

"Definitely... all that shit, I don't care..." John chuckled loudly, shaking his head, "it doesn't matter."

He raised one hand up and tried to grab one of the empty bottles, but missed. Tried again, but his fingers only brushed it, and the bottle fell over on the table with a clunk. John allowed his hand to drop back down to the table and laughed to himself again.

"See? I don't care," he mumbled, "Should've told me about this... earlier, Buck."

"Where's Renee?" Buck spoke up, "Why don't you go see her?"

"Yeah," John agreed, but made no movement, and said again, "Yeah."  
"You could relax even more, Chief," Romeo grinned, "If you know what I mean."

"Yeah!" he raised his voice, sounding excited, "Yeah exactly. Relax... where is she again?"

"You said when you came here she was in her room," Buck replied calmly.

"Her room," John nodded, "Oh, right."

He lifted his head from the table, and things seemed to wobble, but he forced himself to his feet, but suddenly let out a loud yell, stumbling to the side:

"The Covenant are attacking the ship!" he said, his voice slurred, "Guys, the Covenant..."

John stumbled again, and dropped onto the floor rather dazed. The supposed Covenant attack forgotten, John started to laugh loudly, rolling onto his back on the floor. He heard the others laugh with him.

"Oh, jeez," he shook his head, "I don't care. I can't walk," he paused to chuckle, "But I don't care!"

He rolled onto his stomach, but looked up to the door, a figure catching his eye. As he squinted to try and stop his vision from rocking, Renee came into focus. She was leaning against the doorframe, her arms folded on her chest. Her expression was a cross between disbelief and disgust. How long had she been standing there?

The ODSTs seemed to notice her at the same time as John, but didn't say anything – they grew quiet.

Renee just looked from them down to John on the floor, who was staring at her. Eventually, he spoke.

"Renee," he said, "I can't walk," his mouth broke into a smile as he chuckled, "Isn't that hilarious?"

Renee didn't move, or say anything.

"I'm just trying to forget everything," John drawled, trying to explain, "Forget all that shit that's in my past. I wish I could forget everything, everything, ya know. This, it's better than the pills, it's way better, I just don't care about anything..." he paused to laugh, then smiled at her, extending his hand towards her, "Come here, let me touch you... let me kiss you..." John blinked, but when he opened his eyes again, all he saw was Renee's back as she left.

He laid there for a while, and the only thing he heard from the ODSTs, was when Buck muttered:

"Shit."

**A/N:** I was bitten by the writer's block bug, and for that I'm sorry. I'm finding it difficult lately to keep up with my usual updating schedule, I'm busy as hell. But don't worry about me, I'm not going anywhere. You'll still get your updates, whether it be once every week or once every three. Hope you enjoyed this one as always. - AB


	21. Day Eight

**Chapter 21 – Day Eight **

**September 5****th****, 2553 – **_**Midnight Sun **_**- Slipspace**

John woke up on the cafeteria floor, the tiles cold against his cheek. The moment he opened his eyes, however, the light seemed to assault him. That's when a splitting headache decided to make itself known to him. Letting out a groan, he rolled onto his back, keeping one arm over his eyes, scrunching his face into a grimace. Uncovering one eye, John looked up to the table at which he'd been sitting last night, and it was empty. The ODSTS and the beer bottles were all gone.

However, he sensed a presence beside him, and turned his head to see Renee sitting beside him on the floor, wearing a pair of green fatigues and a grey t-shirt. She was eating a package of dried fruit, and although she knew he was awake, she didn't make any effort to make eye contact with him.

"You don't feel good, do you?" she asked, not raising her eyes from her food. Her voice was crisp and professional, and John, beyond his headache, was able to sense some irritation radiating from her.

"No," John said.

"Was it all worth it?" Renee finally turned to look down at him, "Did you want to get your mind off things so badly that you resorted to getting foolishly drunk and rolling around on the floor? Never really expected that from you, I must admit, John."

John just shook his head, putting his arm back over his eyes.

"That headache your feeling will be your friend for the next few hours," Renee continued calmly, "So my suggestion is to just go lay down in the dark and rest. And change your pants," she got to her feet, not the slightest bit of sympathy obvious; "You pissed yourself."

"What?" John groaned.

"You're a mess," she rephrased her words, "In case you don't remember; you got wasted and passed out," she frowned, looking down at him, "What really disappoints me is the reason why you got wasted. You realize you said you wanted to forget everything? You were rolling around on the floor talking like a broken soldier instead of the Master Chief we all know. This is the first time since I've met you that you've made a fool of yourself, John."

"You did the same thing," John muttered, "I haven't forgotten April 2nd, 2535, at the bar with Amy, Troy and the others."

"I was young and stupid," Renee snapped.

"Well I'm old and experienced," John raised his voice ever so slightly, "I've been through a hell of a lot more than you. If anyone as the right to try and forget what they've done, it's me. So don't start harping on me, Renee, you have no right."

"Fine," she shrugged simply, turning and leaving the cafeteria, "But I'm not the one lying on the floor in my own piss and misery."

John let out a sigh and just laid back and closed his eyes.

* * *

Buck and Veronica sat in the bridge, alone except for Cortana and the bridge technicians. Lieutenant Lyons had gotten his sleeping schedule backwards, and was slowly working his way to being awake when everyone was asleep and vice-versa.

"There's too much heaviness aboard this ship, Eddie," Veronica announced, glancing to Buck. He'd tried his best to flatter her by bringing her a cappuccino, and although she wasn't really in the mood for one, she sipped at it anyway just to make him happy.

Buck, who was half finished of his own black coffee, gave her a strange look over the rim of his mug.

"How so?" he asked innocently, although he was well aware that Veronica never missed out on much.

"Anyone can tell, the negativity that's going on is almost too much to bear," she replied, "Sergeant Kilburn is ill, Spartan G153 is keeping to herself, your ODSTs have their own quarrels, I have to listen to Lyons complain about his sleeping schedule, and now I've heard that Master Chief was spotted lying hung over in the cafeteria."

"Slipspace tends to do that to people," Buck shrugged, "Boredom can make people do strange things."

"I know you were drinking with the others last night," Veronica raised an eyebrow, "Did you think it would to be funny to get the Master Chief drunk, or what?"

"No, the guy went full out," he sighed, "The guys and I just had a couple of beers, but John downed six. Must have taken a quick liking to it."

"I'm honestly contemplating giving the order of mandatory cryo-sleep for everyone aboard," shaking her head, Veronica ran her fingers through her blond hair, which wasn't in its usual pony-tail.

"For everyone except me and you," Buck grinned, "We can have the whole place to ourselves."

Veronica bit back a smirk.

"In your dreams, Eddie," she remarked, but quickly changed the subject back to one of importance, "We still have another two weeks aboard this vessel and we're losing control. You have rank over the majority of the crew, so I want you to try and do something about this mood everyone is in. It's bringing _me_ down."

"I can bring you back up," Buck muttered with the same little grin on his face.

"Can't you keep focus for _one _minute?" was Veronica's embarrassed retort, "I've given you an order, Eddie, I expect you to do it!"

"You've given me better orders in the past, but I suppose I'll do this one, just for you."

"It's not for you to decide."

"What's your plan of action?" Buck questioned, "I don't know many motivational speeches, nor how to deal with a hung over Spartan."

"That's your problem," Veronica seemed irritated, "And I'm actually surprised that the Master Chief would drink, let alone get piss-loaded. It's rather foolish of him."

"Last night he kept going on about how he wanted to get his mind off everything," Buck set down his mug, looking around the room, "We all have skeletons in our closet, but John's is just overflowing, that's all."

"No more beer."

"Alright, no more beer," he was quick to agree.

* * *

Buck, now following Veronica's orders, went on a leisurely walk through the ship. Today, it seemed everyone was keeping to themselves, he had found Romeo and Dutch in the weight room, although they didn't speak to each other much. Rookie was in his room, reading a tattered book that looked like it'd been through a war itself. On passing the target room, he found that's where Elsie had preoccupied herself. Mickey and his feline companion were in the cafeteria, Mickey getting a fair bit of fun feeding Brute canned sardines. John, who had been last seen lying on the floor of that said room, was now gone.

Mickey, who seemed to be the cheeriest of the bunch he'd encountered so far, greeted Buck with a wave.

"Brute really loves these things," he said, gesturing to the sardines.

"At least someone does," Buck scoffed, "How's it going?"

"Alright I suppose," Mickey shrugged, "Although I'm glad I have Brute. Everyone is in a shitty mood, have you noticed?"

"Oh I've noticed," he nodded, "Veronica's even noticed. She found out about John's binge."

"Ouch," Mickey grimaced, dropping another sardine onto the table as Brute quickly devoured it, "Does she know he pissed himself?"

"He pissed himself?"

"Yup – if you hadn't hit the hay so quick you would've been around to witness it," Mickey shook his head, "Poor John, that beer really messed him up. Gave him a good gut punch, that's for sure. I don't even want to think about the headache that guy's probably got right now. Not to mention, Lil Sarge isn't too happy about what he did."

"Renee?" Buck echoed, "Damn, that's right, she saw him last night, didn't she?"

"And this morning, apparently," Mickey made a face.

"I should go and try to talk to her, you think?" Buck questioned.

"I suppose, you'd have a better chance than John would right now."  
"Where's John, anyway?"

"In his room, with the lights out, having an intimate time with his first hangover, of course," Mickey grinned sympathetically, "And Renee, she's in her room too, I'm pretty sure. At least that's where I saw her headed a little while ago. She's got the flu or something, right? She was pale, but boy, did she look _angry_."

"Wish me luck?" Buck asked, "Veronica's got me playing the role of moderator."

"Have fun with that endeavour," Mickey chuckled, shaking his head.

* * *

When Buck arrived at Renee's room, the door wasn't locked, but when the door slid open automatically, he waited for something to come flying out at him. Instead, he saw Renee sitting on her bed, back to the wall, one knee up. Surprisingly, she was only wearing a bra, her dog tags and a pair of fatigues. She met Buck's eyes, but didn't have much of a reaction to him entering. She simply raised her eyebrow.

"Gunny?" she asked.

"Sorry," Buck said, already half-backed out of the room.

"No it's alright," she waved him back, "I don't care. I'm not naked. Even then, I'm pretty sure I wouldn't care." She let out a bemused chuckle at her own words.

"Not in a caring mood?" Buck questioned, trying his best to not feel awkward as the door slid closed behind him. He couldn't help but notice the scars that covered her stomach and parts of her chest that weren't covered. They must have been from that incident in 2535, which had landed her in that coma for eighteen years.

Renee shook her head.

"You know, I never really smoked," she remarked, "But I could really use a cigarette right now."

"The whole ordeal last night?" Buck asked, folding his arms behind his back.

"Just trying to make sense of it," Renee replied, looking him up and down at his awkward stance, "Eddie, if you've come here to talk to me, at least sit down," she gestured over to the chair and writing table.

Buck wordlessly did as he was told, not wanting to have her throw him out. He wanted to try to explain to her why John had done what he had done, try to moderate things out a little.

"That's the last thing I expected," Renee continued, "To see John in that state."

"If you're looking for someone to blame," Buck interrupted, placing his hands on his chest, "You're looking at him. I'm the one who brought out the beer."

Renee looked at him for a few seconds, but nothing on her nonchalant face changed, except for a faint smirk that came to her lips.

"You didn't force it down his throat," she said calmly, "It was optional. John made the decision to drink it."

"I was the one to make it sound appealing to him," he confessed, "I told him how it would make him feel, how he would just feel calm and have no worries, but I expected him to have maybe one or two. That much alone calms you fair enough... but he had six..."

"And that was his choice," Renee shrugged, "I'm not sure what to think about that. I thought for a while that he had control of his memories from the past, but then he told me this morning that he 'had every right' to drink, to try and forget everything. Even I don't know half of what he experienced during his service, but I know, and I think he knows, that drinking himself into a stupor does nothing to help." She paused, "Do you know how humiliating it was for me to see him lying there on the floor, having pissed himself?"

"You saw that," Buck said quietly.

"It really surprised me," she said, "Before, I worried about John, but now having seen him in that state, it makes me worry more. I don't want to lose him, but I feel that I might be. The John I knew before wouldn't allow himself to drink six beers, pass out and piss himself for everyone to see."

"It surprised me too," He agreed, "I haven't known him for long, but I didn't expect that from him. I saw him mangle that guy's hand, I saw him kill that Brute back at the crash site, and I had him lunge at me with intentions to rip my head off – but those actions _fit _his character. He's the Master Chief."

"Not some drunkard," Renee added thoughtfully, "So far, this mission hasn't been good for our morale. We need to shape up, Eddie, surely you see that."

"Plain as day," he agreed, "The Captain has too. I think there's been enough dicking around. We all need to focus what's ahead of us. Even I, I admit, haven't acted the way I should've. The war is over, but, we're still in the UNSC. I'm still a Helljumper."

Renee nodded.

"What's it like to be a Helljumper?" she asked suddenly.

"It all depends on if the idea of free-falling into atmosphere in a little titanium box sounds appealing to you," he replied with a smirk.

"I couldn't imagine," she shook her head.

"Well, there's your answer," Buck said, "It's not for everybody." He smiled, "See? You're cheering up already. Let John's little mistake go. We all make mistakes, even him."

"I couldn't stay mad at him," Renee shook her head, "He means too much to me."

"You really love that big oaf, don't you?" Buck joked, letting out a laugh.

"Of course I do."

"He's lucky to have someone to care about him as much as you do," he remarked, "Speaking of caring, I heard that your diagnosis was just the flu. How are you feeling?"

"A little better," Renee sighed, "Relieved, that's for sure. I'm glad it was just the flu, and not what I had begun to speculate."

"John mentioned something about that too," Buck said, "I don't mean to pry, but I thought it was just him being paranoid, but you had speculations? What did you think was wrong?"

"Thought I was pregnant," Renee just spewed out the answer dully. At this point, she didn't care if Buck knew or not, as long as the scare was over, she was happy. Upon her answer, she watched Buck's face struggle into an awkward expression.

"Really?" he said, not sounding like he believed her, "With... John's?"

"Who else's?" Renee still remained calm.

"I never even knew Spartans could have kids."

"I'm not sure if they can, to be truthful. There was a problem somewhere, and it's either me or John, or who knows, both of us, but I'm glad for that. I don't think a child would fit into the picture well."

"Would that even work?" Buck found himself curious, "Isn't John's genetics different in some way?"

"In several ways," She answered, "John consulted Dr. Halsey back in 35, and she said that she thought the Spartan genes and the normal human genes would mix without any major problems, but I think John's grown to doubt that."

Buck nodded thoughtfully, a few moments passed before either of them said anything. Finally, Buck glanced up at Renee again, eyeing her plentiful scars.

"If you don't mind me asking, those scars, they're from..."

"When I was shot, yeah," Renee caught on quickly, "Nice, aren't they? I've come to accept them, I suppose. Makes me who I am, and makes me look tough too, I guess."

The two of them chuckled together.

"You are pretty tough, I admit," Buck agreed, "Not many women I'd know would go through what you've gone through and still want to be in the UNSC, let alone stick around to be promoted to a Sergeant."

"Ah well. There isn't much else for me to do, can't exactly go back to playing hockey."

Buck chuckled, and shrugged.

"Yeah, I suppose," he said, "It's kind of scary when it's all over and you have to go back home, isn't it?. I don't have a home to go to. I was born on Draco III, and that colony was glassed a couple of years ago. Now the closest thing I have to home is staying here in the UNSC."

"I'm a native to Earth," Renee replied thoughtfully, "But I still don't feel quite right being there, despite having my family and friends around me. I hate to say it, but I think I've become some sort of war monger. I never spoke a word of it to anyone before, but in the short time I was living a civilian life with John, I wanted to have a gun in my hands, I wanted to be out in the midst of a battle. Everything else that once was so normal to me, the civilian life, it's just boring now."

"I know what you mean. And if it's hard for you and hard for me, it must be really hard for John. The war had been his life," Buck paused thoughtfully, "Are you going to stay after this?"

"In the UNSC? I think I might, as long as John does, but I never know with him, what path he's going to take, what he's going to do next."

"I've said this before, but John is lucky to have you, Lil Sarge. I think, without you, he'd be just one big mess."

"I'm not even sure if he'd be alive," Renee answered solemnly, "So I do suppose my presence is one to be thankful for."

* * *

It was late when John finally emerged from his room, the headache had subsided enough for him to be able to stand. With a quick glance in the mirror on his way out, his theory proved to be true: he looked like shit. Dark purple circles had formed underneath his eyes, contrasting with the pale white of the rest of his face. His lips were dry, eyes were black and bloodshot, and his expression was almost pitiful.

During the agony of lying in the dark, John had drilled the thought into his head, _I'm never drinking again_. It had seemed well at the time, the alcohol was wonderful on how it had cleared his mind of any worries and doubts, and had left him feeling carefree and nonchalant, but it was a wolf in sheep's clothing. After a while, those lovely effects wore off, and left a horrible headache, lack of bladder control, and nausea in their place.

He didn't remember much at all, but one of the most vivid things was how Renee had come across him in the cafeteria, how she'd been noticeably disappointed – even disgusted – with him and his behavior. His pounding headache had caused him to snap at her and say things he normally wouldn't, and he wondered if she would even bother to speak to him now.

John was frustrated with himself and his actions. Why was almost everything he did turn out to be, more or less, a complete fuck up? The only time he succeeded and soared above others was during the war, when he'd been out slaughtering thousands of Covenant, detonating bombs and ultimately, saving the universe from certain destruction.

All the other things that most people excelled at, he felt that he did horribly.

This thought had more than enough time to harass him in the time that he had laid there battling the miserable headache. More than once had he fallen into a depressed stupor, thinking that there was nothing else for him in the world, and he continuing to live was pointless. He'd thought of putting a gun to his head just to relieve himself of the pain of the hangover, and had almost relished in the thought of being dead, how quiet it would be and how he would be without any worries, his life would be over and that would be it.

Those thoughts ashamed him now, just reminding himself that such things had crossed his mind made him want to turn around and go back into his room, but he had had enough of those four walls, shrouded in darkness as he laid on that relatively uncomfortable bed.

Comfort was what he was lacking now, and he wasn't sure if he even had the one person to comfort him to rely on anymore. Renee had been undoubtedly disappointed in his decision, if not completely pissed off and revolted. Would she have any sympathy for him, that he had spent the entire day in bed dealing with his first hangover? Would she soothe him and talk to him in a soft caring voice, assure him that everything would be alright and that she forgave him for his stupidity?

She wasn't his mother.

John, as he slowly made his way down the hallway, prepared himself for whatever reception he would receive from Renee, and of course, the most negative outcome came to his mind first, like always.

Her room was next door to his, but he hesitated at the door, stopping far enough away so that the doors wouldn't open automatically. He listened for any sounds, movement from within her room, but it was quiet. John wasn't even sure what 'time' it was.

John found her room to be empty, the bed sheets slightly rumpled. The chair beside the writing desk was ajar, turned away from the desk, around to face the bed. The locker door hung open, and several unfolded garments hung out of it. Her stick of deodorant lay on the floor, along with the pillow from her bed. His first thought was that she'd had an angry tirade, but John tried to assure himself that Renee had never been the most organized person in the first place, and the state of her room was just because she had spent time in it.

That's when, from behind, he felt a pair of arms wrap around his waist, felt a female body press against him, and the familiar voice he knew to be Renee's:

"Hello, John."

John looked back over his shoulder, and saw her smiling up at him. Surprised that she'd snuck up on him without him knowing, John turned around to face her, holding her gently by the shoulders. Her expression was calm, although in its own way, forgiving.

"Hey," he said softly. Paused, "You're not angry with me?"

"I was," she confessed, "But, I think you learned your lesson perfectly without having me upset with you. Buck said that I should forgive you because you made a mistake. We all make mistakes and life is too short to waste it away with being angry at one another."

John allowed a smile to come to his face.

"Allow me to apologize, though, for my behavior," he told her, "How I acted was wrong, not to mention completely unprofessional. I'm ashamed, and I just hope everyone else will be as quick to forgive me as you were."

"I think they already have," Renee assured him, "Like I said, everyone makes mistakes. It was just your turn to make yours."

"And what a horrible one it was to make," he muttered, "My headache isn't completely gone, even after so many hours."

"Not too nice, is it?" she made a face, "It doesn't solve anything, either."

"No," he agreed, "It doesn't. I was wrong to try and think that a drink would be a substitute for my medications."

"Now you know," Renee shrugged, "Speaking of your medications, you haven't had any hallucinations, have you? You're alright, right? You'd tell me if you weren't feeling well?"

"Yes," he nodded, "I'm fine. I haven't had any problems, besides just thinking about things that happened, but I suppose not even the medications can keep me from thinking."

"No, but, instead of thinking about the past," Renee suggested, "Think about the future, think about the present. Live in the now, John, not in the past, and truthfully, if you live each day like it's your last, the day means more to you tomorrow."

"There actually was a time where I was living each day, not knowing if I'd be alive for the next," John muttered softly, "And, I seemed to value the minutes more, I think."

"That's the way I do it. Every day – when someone like me has eighteen years of their life taken from them, the last thing you want to do is waste time on whatever it is that is pointless."

John gazed down at her face for a long time, before deciding to repeat the words that he had said to her not twenty four hours ago, with a tiny smile on his face:

"I know I said this before, but I mean it this time," he said, "And I'm not drunk. I want to kiss you."

"Me too," Renee agreed, reaching up towards his face with her hands. He met her half way, bending down so she could wrap her arms around his neck. They shared a passionate kiss – and although the scent of alcohol was still on John's breath, Renee hardly cared.

The kiss finally united them and was the solution to the problem. All possible issues they had with each other disappeared when their lips met. It lasted for several minutes, the two of them unable to get enough of each other, holding each other in their embrace. Hands caressed faces, fingers ran through hair, and nothing needed to be verbal as they found their way down onto the already messed bed.

Renee straddled John, holding him down by the shoulders for a moment, as she kissed him gently, and then switched over to fierce. She ripped his shirt over his head and threw it aside, first planting a kiss on John's lips, then his neck, making her way down his chest. John was breathing heavily, and he closed his eyes, allowing himself to just focus on the feel of her lips on his skin and nothing else. It had been a while since they'd been together like this, and even longer since he'd allowed her to take control.

However, he remembered that the two of them had vowed not to be like this when they were on a mission, but John's hormones outweighed his common sense, every little part of him yearned for her, and judging by her lustfulness, she was yearning for him too.

John grabbed her arms, and flipped her so she was lying beneath him. Her eyes flashed determination, and she playfully fought against him as he removed her shirt, then dove to kiss her neck, her stomach. Renee's hand closed around John's dog tags, and yanked him up so their faces were level. Kissing him passionately, running her tongue along his bottom lip as to distract him, she squirmed out from beneath him, trying to be the one in control once more.

"You're not going anywhere," John whispered huskily in her ear as he pushed her back down with one hand, and undid his pants with the other. She let out a sigh, but became once again preoccupied with him as he leaned down to kiss her once more, instinctively wrapping her legs around his waist as he clumsily tried to pull off his boxers with one hand.

Renee happened to look over John's shoulder, only to see the door to the room open. In fear of being seen, she instantly panicked, shrieking something frantic, squirming away from John, fumbling for the bed sheets. John, rather surprised, looked back over his shoulder – but for a moment, neither of them moved, for there was no one standing in the doorway.

That's when they both heard a familiar sound, come from below. A meow.

They looked down, and saw it was Brute who had sauntered his way in to the room, tail swishing happily, as he looked up at them on the bed. He let out another meow, sitting back on his haunches, looking at them through slightly narrowed eyes, as if to say: "Aren't you glad it was just me?"

Renee and John met each other's eyes, and sighed in relief at the same time, humility ebbing through them. Although their heated mood was instantly ruined, they were glad that it had been ruined by the feline and not one of their own. Brute couldn't run off and tell what he'd caught them doing.

"Cat," John sighed, pulling his boxers up fully around his waist and sliding off the bed, "I'm proud you've figured out the automatic doors, but..." he swiped his t-shirt off the floor, and then Renee's, tossing hers to her. They quickly fixed themselves, as Brute continued to sit beside the bed, gaze being shared between the both of them.

Although it was just an animal, Renee felt embarrassed. However, she was thankful that Brute's usual companion, Mickey, wasn't there with him.

"My second mistake in a short time," John muttered to himself. He gestured to the door, looking down at Brute, "Mickey will be looking for you, go on."

Brute let out a loud meow, but surprisingly did as he was told, and left the room with almost a prance. Renee, who was still sitting on the bed, met John's eyes and shook her head.

"I don't think it's meant to be," she said, "At least not while we're here. That just proved it, what if it hadn't been the cat? Imagine if it were Elsie, or Buck... how embarrassing!"

John sighed, folding his arms on his chest as he looked down at the floor.

"Buck and Veronica..." he objected, "Didn't you catch on that time he came to breakfast late?"

"Yes, I did," Renee said, "I wasn't sure if you had..."

"If they can get away with it, we can," John seemed determined, "We just need to coordinate better timing, that's all. Strategize."

"Or we could wait until we get back to Earth," she said softly.

"Can you really wait until we get back to Earth?" he found himself chuckling, "That wasn't all me back there. Half of it was you; you want it just as bad as I."

Renee found herself embarrassed now, once again conflicted with the issue of professionalism, but she didn't say anything, for she knew it would be the start of another petty argument, something that wasn't at all needed.

"I think I'm just going to relax for the rest of this Slipspace jump," she said softly, falling back onto the bed, staring at the ceiling, "Keep to myself and try and get the better of this flu..."

John for a moment didn't look agreeable. His brows were furrowed and his mouth once again that simple line, but he simply shrugged in mute agreement. He was tempted by the thought of cryo-sleep, he wasn't sure if he could just 'relax' for two more weeks. He needed to be out doing something, or, doing nothing at all, frozen in cryo-stasis.

"Would you mind..." John began, looking up from the floor to Renee's eyes, "If I went into cryo, for the remainder of this jump?"

"Why?" Renee asked calmly.

"I don't know if I can do it," he said, "Make it out sane in the end, if I just keep wandering around this ship. I don't have my pills, and, if anything were to come back, it would be miserable..."

"But what about the rest of us?" she questioned, "You can't just leave Elsie..."

"She's wanted to go into cryo since we first stepped aboard this frigate," John replied, keeping his voice level and calm, "And the others, they're nice people, but I can't completely relate. There isn't enough here to keep me preoccupied, I have you, but you need to focus on making yourself better, and if I'm spending time with you all the time to try and keep _myself _from going crazy, there's no way you'll be able to improve yourself..."

"If you want to go into cryo, John," Renee answered honestly, giving him a small smile, "I'm not stopping you. I won't object. I do admit, it's difficult for me to understand what you're trying to avoid, because I've never experienced what you have – with the effects of your stress disorder, and all the things you have seen, but, I do respect that if you would feel most comfortable entering cryo-stasis, I'd be alright with that," she let out a little laugh, "Besides, I can always join you if things get too boring around here."

John returned her smile, grateful for her understanding.

"Thank you," he nodded quietly, for a moment finding it difficult to choose the right words, "Although you don't think you understand me, you understand me hell of a lot better than everyone else on this ship. And I know you will be well enough on your own."

"Yes, I suppose I will."

"You made it alright when you thought I was dead," John surprisingly made a joke of the incident, "You'll be fine when I'm just temporarily frozen in a deep sleep – and I do really need a deep sleep."

"I'll be strong, but, don't get me wrong, John. I'll miss you."

"And I you," John crossed the room, and the two of them shared a little kiss that was nothing but innocent.

* * *

When the morning came, John and Elsie had gone into cryo stasis – and there was a noticeable difference in the atmosphere aboard. Renee felt different, knowing that John wouldn't be there to talk to, however she didn't allow herself to be bogged down with the thought of it. Technically, he was still there with them, only in a cryo tube, frozen in a deep sleep, along with Elsie.

There was something about the Spartans that Renee figured she would never truly understand. They seemed to work together, think together, and fight together like one, whether there were two of them, three, six, or ten. There was a deep bond that seemed to connect them, in a way like they were a different species entirely.

She'd said goodnight to John the night before, and from there he must have gone and told Elsie of his intentions, and the two of them went to the cryotubes together. In a way, she found their motive understandable, how they found 'doing nothing' aboard a ship in Slipspace something hard to deal with. They couldn't be reprimanded for their desire to favor being busy. They hadn't grown up with small talk, laughter, fun and loads of free time, and although it was now available for them, they weren't quite sure how to handle themselves in such a situation.

Renee informed the ODSTs that morning about the two Spartans and their decision. Buck, who just a week ago had surely hated the both of them, seemed almost disappointed, and there were hints of a similar reaction amongst the others.

Less than two weeks remained before they would arrive at the Zeta Doradus system, and from then on, it would be down to business, seeing if they could find the missing Spartan II's, the III's, and Dr. Halsey. They were going on just a weak signal that had been received, a desperate sounding voice recognized to be Kelly 087, one of the remaining survivors of Spartan Blue Team. Whether the others that had disappeared around the same time as she. were alive, it was uncertain.

They weren't even sure exactly where they could be. Not much was known about this system, it had been kept quiet since mission of Onyx, a mission that itself, had not much said. In a way, they were going to go blindfolded, search an entire star system for possible survivors – and they weren't even sure exactly _what _to look for.

Renee found herself filled with anticipation for this mission to come. It would be the first, true excitement – true adrenaline rushed she had experienced since she was nineteen years old. That was a long time ago, but she assured herself that she would be able to succeed like the others, and bring whoever was alive back to Earth.

It all sounded simple enough.

**A/N: **Surprise! I got this written very, very quickly, mostly because I'm motivated for my lack of time. In a month's time, this story will have been going on for nine months, the time that the first LOAS took from start to finish, and I'm not close to being done. In order to try and keep on my schedule, you'll find that updates could even be once or twice a week. This is the last filler chapter, as the next will skip ahead two weeks where they arrive at their destination – and I might even start writing that chapter today. Hope you enjoyed this one, but I apologize if it at all seems sort of rushed. - AB


	22. Day Twenty One

** Chapter 22: Day Twenty-One (Arrival)**

** September 18****th****, 2553 – Zeta Doradus System**

"We're here," Cortana announced from her holographic panel. The bridge was abuzz. The frigate had just exited Slipspace. Dare was at her usual place at the control panel, staring up at the holographic screen that showed her an image of the Zeta Doradus system. Her blond hair was pulled back into a ponytail, and she was dressed in her Helljumper gear, something that she hadn't worn in a while. It still felt comfortable.

"Alright, Cortana, give me everything," Dare told her, not taking her eyes off the screen.

"In front of you, we have the Zeta Doradus system," Cortana happily spoke, "In the center; you have the system's star, a white dwarf. It is orbited by ten planets, four of which are rock based, with an iron core much like Earth. The remaining six are gas, two of which are gas giants, ten times the size of Jupiter. There were once eleven planets, the missing one is Onyx. Based on my calculations and space between the planets, Onyx was located between the second and third planets closest to the sun. I'm just awaiting the results to come back on the planets' atmospheric make-ups..." Cortana paused, waited a few seconds, and then continued, "The first planet closest to the sun is unable to sustain life – temperatures are too hot. This applies to the second as well, however, the third planet has inhabitable atmosphere and temperatures – an atmosphere of nitrogen, oxygen, carbon dioxide and other gasses similar to that of Earth, although the temperatures are a little colder than that of Earth, an average temperature of minus 6 degrees Celsius. This planet is orbited by two moons, both of which are of similar make-up – generally speaking, also able to sustain life."

"This mission could be a lot easier than I thought," Dare murmured, "I bet you that's where they are – once Onyx was destroyed, that's where they went."

"I'm just waiting for the space scans to see if I have any life readings from the planet or its moons," Cortana told her, muttering a few words that were unintelligible to Dare, then after a moment spoke up again, "Yes, there you go," she gestured to the holographic screen that zoomed into the planet and it's two orbiting moons. A cluster of red looking blotches appeared on the planet, whereas on the moons, they were highlighted in yellow, "Let me explain. The moons are yellow because they sustain life – but only of smaller organisms, such as plants, insects, perhaps tiny animals, but the red you see on the planet, they tell us that there are living organisms there, and are of human proportion, although of course, they could be humans, then again, they could be another life form – a large species of animal perhaps. But the life you are looking for is right there, clustered close to the equator; I'm guessing it's too cold in the poles."

Dare stared at the holographic screen, exhaling a deep breath.

"Let's pray the people we're looking for are on that planet," she whispered, then crossed over to the intercom, pressed the button and spoke, "Attention all personnel, this is your Captain speaking. We have arrived at our destination, and we have found one of the planets in this system contains life– which means suit up. We're going topside. Dress warm, though. The planet's average temperatures are in the minus degrees– we'll be trudging through snow down there. I want you all ready to go in an hour. Over." Veronica finished her speech, and looked up to Cortana, "Unfreeze the Spartans."

John slowly drifted back into consciousness, feeling coming back to his limbs. He wiggled his fingers, and moved his toes inside of the titanium boots. As he opened his eyes, he looked through his armour's visor through the frosty plate of glass of the cryo tube. They were unfreezing him, so, they must be here. John's mind was hazy, and he felt like going back to sleep, but he only enjoyed thirty more seconds within the tube before they popped the hatch, and the door opened.

Almost at the same time, his HUD came to life, blinking his stats to him. His health was all good. John laid there for a few more seconds before pushing himself to his feet and hopping out of the cryo tube. His armor clunked against the floor. He glanced to his right and saw Elsie getting out of the tube next to him.

"Sleep tight?" she asked him jokingly, stretching out her arms over her head.

"Best sleep in months," John muttered, it wasn't a lie.

The two of them stood there for a moment, stretching and bending their limbs. John felt unusually stiff, but the moving helped him a little. He guessed it would wear off quickly.

"I guess everyone knows what we're doing," Elsie said as they stepped out into the hallway. A couple of the crew passed them in a blur, "Nice of them to unfreeze us _after _the announcement is made."

"We'll get the briefing," John remained calm, "We've arrived at our destination, I'm sure of that."

"Your armor working ok?"

"Working beautifully. Yours?"

"Still does the job, though I think I've told you before I'm envious of your brand spanking new hunk of junk."'

"You'll just have to stay a step or two behind me," John quickened his pace a little to go along with his joke, but she was quick to keep up with him.

"Yeah right. Don't try and belittle me, John, it wouldn't be a wise choice on your part," Laughter was hinted in Elsie's voice, as her hand shot out and shoved his shoulder. He just chuckled, returning the playful shove. Elsie shook her head, "See, I love cryo sleep – we wake up just in time for the action, and skip on the boredom."

"Indeed."

Ahead of them, Buck stepped out of an adjacent corridor, and spotted the two Spartans instantly. He was dressed in his full hell-jumper uniform, and he let out a chuckle and glanced back over his shoulders:

"Your sleeping beauty is up and running, Lil Sarge."

John knew he must be talking to Renee, and sure enough, she emerged into the hallway along with the other ODSTs, looking quite at home with them, although however, dwarfed still in height differences. Her face lit up instantly when she saw John and Elsie approaching, a big smile coming to her face. She brushed past Buck, but seemed to stop herself and just mustered a wave.

John and Elsie returned the wave, stopping just a few feet from the ODSTs, towering over everyone. John, of course, was now a massive seven feet tall in his armor. He fixed his eyes on Renee, half expecting her to run up and hug him, or maybe even attempt to remove his helmet to see his face, but she stood there professionally with just a little smile on her face.

"Ready to go?" she asked, her voice louder than usual, a confidence radiating from her. John guessed that this was from being with the ODSTs. None of them were exactly quiet, except for Rookie, of course.

"Fill us in?" John questioned. Once again, she surprised him by not saying something along the lines of 'I missed you', or 'I'm glad to see you again'. But Renee just looked to Buck.

"Should I tell them or you?"

"They're your buddies," Buck scoffed, although he had a grin on his face, "We're headed to the armory, catch up with us there, Lil Sarge." He clapped her on the shoulder, turned and started down the hallway, the other ODSTs quick to follow.

"Will do," Renee nodded, glancing at them then turning back to John and Elsie. She crossed her arms on her chest, pursing her lips thoughtfully, "Walk 'n' talk?"

"Okay," John replied, but he hardly had the words out of his mouth and Renee had already started off down the hallway and that's when he realized it had been a rhetorical question. He heard the static buzz as Elsie initiated the in-helmet comm.

"She's different, you notice?" she asked.

"Yes," John murmured.

"So you didn't miss much," Renee began, glancing over her shoulder at them, "While you were in the tubes, I mean. But, Veronica just made an announcement not too long ago. The basic story is, we've arrived at the Zeta Doradus system, and we've found a planet able to inhabit life, so we're going topside to look for the Spartans and Dr. Halsey. I'm actually excited for it!"

John exchanged glances with Elsie, although they couldn't see each other's faces, they knew what expressions they beheld beneath the visors.

"Let me try," Elsie spoke to him over the internal comm.

"Please."

"So..." Elsie spoke up, "It's good to see you again, Renee. You look happy. How were the past two weeks?"

"Good!" Renee raised her brows, "Had a time! Boredom was there sometimes, but when isn't it, ya know? I played poker a lot, never really knew the game before, but it's really decent. I'm not that bad at it either, though Dutch is the pro – and Rookie too, he doesn't talk, but he can play a mean game of cards let me tell you that right now..." her sentence transitioned into her signature laugh – a true laugh John hadn't heard in a while.

Elsie switched on the in-helmet comm again.

"She's been bitten by the ODST bug! She's just like them now, it's almost... repulsive."

John didn't know what to say for a moment, but it was true.

"It was like when I first met her, but worse. Her tough attitude's come back..."

"Renee is always tough, John. This isn't tough; this is Hell-Jumper attitude. They say you become like those with whom you spend time..."

"Well, with the amount of time she spent with me, she should be a miserable antisocial psycho by now."

"You aren't a miserable antisocial psycho!" Elsie was quick to object, "But are you saying she's faking?"

"This isn't her and she knows it."

John switched off the comm and decided to speak to Renee once more.

"I've missed you," he said softly. Renee glanced back over her shoulder at him, her expression softening as she smiled.

"I missed you too," she answered, her voice momentarily sweet. However, her expression changed, she frowned, and then said almost in a blunt order, "I can't see your face, though, so it's like listening to a recording. Take your helmet off, we aren't in battle."

John was silent for a moment, but he reached up and took his helmet off with a hiss as the suit depressurized. Renee studied his face, the small smile coming back.

"That's better," but then she made a weird face, "Did you go into cryo _with _your suit on? You have frost burn on your cheeks," she touched her own cheeks in gesture, "They're all red. Your nose, too."

"Oh," John simply said, giving up on his fake expression he'd been trying so hard to hold. He finally decided upon asking her the question that had been bothering him since he'd first seen her, "Is there something wrong with you?"

"No," Renee innocently answered, her voice calm, "Why?"

"Never mind," John pursed his lips, walking ahead of her with just two steps. Elsie was quick behind him, and the Spartans with their long legs were soon far ahead of Renee. Behind them, they heard Renee scoff to herself with confusion.

"Just leave me behind, that's okay, it's not like I have feelings or anything!" she said, then mumbled, "Damn Spartans," louder again, "If I were a Lieutenant I'd..."

"You're not," John glanced back over his shoulder at her, "And thank god you're not. With an attitude like that you would've made Troy Fisher seem exceptional."

"What?" Renee snapped, starting after them. John stopped, watching her as she sped towards him as fast as she could while remaining walking. Her hands were clenched into fists, color having come to her cheeks instantly with his comment.

Elsie came over his intercom.

"Smarten her up, John."

"I plan on it." He answered, as Renee looked incredibly enraged standing before him.

"What type of comment was that?" she demanded, staring up at him, not letting her lack of height be a downfall, "Why the hell would you say that to _me_? And don't make Troy out to be a bad person! You know he wasn't. How about you get out of your cryo-hangover and talk to me _once _you're not being rude. Or maybe just shut up and focus what's at hand here. Don't start shit with me!"

"Remember who you're talking to," John said calmly, narrowing his eyes.

"Remember who _you're _talking to!" She retorted, "I'm not one of the OD…" she trailed off, realization coming onto her face, "Oh that's it. That's it, isn't it? You think I'm one of them now, well, I didn't put you in that cryotube. You chose to leave me with them. And they aren't all that bad, anyway. But just because I'm acting like a marine for once and not some clumsy twit doesn't mean that I've become an ODST, John."

"Becoming an ODST isn't a bad thing," came Buck's voice from behind the Spartans, and Renee glanced past them to see him standing in the doorway to the armory. John and Elsie looked over their shoulder at him, and Buck remained nonchalant. It was obvious he was aware of the current argument, but he didn't say anything about it, "John, Elsie, how was your nap?"

"Not bad," John answered, and he liked Buck enough to be willing to bring him into the conversation, "Help me out here, what about you; do you notice a change in her?" He gestured desperately down to Renee, who stood before him looking utterly perturbed.

"Lil Sarge?" Buck folded his arms on his chest, "She's become more ballsy, but ain't nothing wrong with that. Change is good sometimes, John – but we can have this convo in the Pelican on the way to the surface, let's go guys, grab your weapons and let's boot 'er to the docking bay!"

Renee didn't say anything more to John or Elsie. She brushed past them into the armory, muttering a thank you to Buck. Buck looked at the two Spartans' pale, tired faces, noses and cheeks tinged with frost burn. They exchanged glances but didn't seem interested in speaking.

"Dunno how you guys can handle the freezer burn," he remarked, "But you're Spartans, I guess. You kick ass." He turned and walked into the armory and with a glance over his shoulder, proved his speculation that they would follow.

They walked down the rows of weapon racks, Buck absentmindedly running his hands across the assault rifles. John glanced to one end of the room and saw Renee amongst the ODSTs, seated on a box of ammo, busy checking one of the M6D pistols.

"What's your weapon of choice, Sparties?" Buck questioned, "We aren't fighting any war, but we can't take any chances." He jerked one of the MA5B assault rifles from the weapon rack for himself, giving it a quick look over and then smirked up to the two Spartans, "I'm old fashioned."

"Me too," John said, his voice coming out scratchy. He reached out and grabbed his own assault rifle. Quickly, he grabbed a few clips and put them in his utility belt. A glance over his shoulder, however, proved his speculation that Elsie wasn't as old fashioned. She instead, was examining one of the battle rifles. Pleased, she grabbed several ammo clips, and while putting them in her utility belt, looked up to John and Buck, a small smile coming to her lips.

"I'm a fan of the burst shot," she shrugged.

"Want your side-arms?" called Dutch from across the armory. In his hands, he held two of the M6Ds, "M6D good for you?"

"There's nothing better," Elsie remarked, holding out her hand.

Dutch tossed the pistols towards the Spartans, and they snatched them out of the air with little effort. He glanced to Buck, who was giving him a questionable look.

"What about me?" Buck snapped.

"You're not as cool as them," Mickey told him plainly, "You can get your ass over here and get your own pistol."

"I'll get my ass over there and kick yours, Mick!" Buck started, but Renee quickly grabbed a pistol from the weapons rack and threw it at Buck, with the joking remark,

"Stop whining, you little bitch!"

Buck caught the pistol, but fumbled it, letting out a curse.

"Watch it, Lil Sarge," he said, "That was a shitty throw."

"My remark wasn't exactly nice either," she laughed.

There was a moment of flurried conversation between the ODSTs, as everyone finished selecting their weapons of choice. John waited until they mostly seemed focused, before deciding to speak, knowing that a friendly reminder of the situation wouldn't hurt them.

"Let's have a little run through," John spoke up, and instantly, all eyes were on him, except for Renee, who was now disassembling the pistol on her lap. However, he knew, he'd be able to include her in his run through. He continued, "Say there are hostiles down on this planet," John began to walk around the room as he talked, putting his pistol in his utility belt, "Not necessarily aliens, but... human conflicts, just as an example. It's been a while for all of us since we've been in any sort of conflict. This is one rule that all of us need to remember," John took a few more steps until he was behind Renee, who too was focused on her disassembled weapon to notice, "Say if someone comes up behind you, and does this..." John paused, then, in a second, he had Renee in a solid headlock. He didn't use all of his strength, but enough of it so that she would be unable to escape it. She let out a little gasp of surprise.

"John, what the..." she tried to get out of the headlock, but couldn't move. John glanced up to the ODSTs and Elsie, and they were all watching quietly. Buck looked very interested. Elsie, who understood what point he was proving, had a tiny smile on her face.

"She can't escape it, can she?" John asked the others, who simply shook their heads. Renee let out a frustrated sigh, but he continued, "Now, I'm using equivalent of my strength that could be comparable to that to any of you in this room. She can't escape, and if this were a real situation, from here on, the hostile could do one of many things to her, the main choice, would be, to break her neck." As he was talking, John gently put both hands on her face, and turned her head ever so slightly, mimicking the gesture required to break someone's neck. Renee, at this point, had lost most of the color from her face, and looked relieved when he let her go.

"At this point, 'Lil Sarge'-" John used her rank nickname almost mockingly, "-would be dead, that would be it. There would be no resurrecting her, for you all know that breaking the neck of any living creature, results in immediate paralysation and death. Now," John leaned down to Renee's ear, "Could you tell me one thing that could have been done in this situation to avoid this careless casualty?"

Renee chewed on her lip, not meeting his eyes, nor anyone else's. She stared, embarrassed, down at the floor plates.

"Being alert at all times and paying attention to my surroundings," she said lowly.

John nodded.

"Precisely," he said, straightening and walking back towards Elsie and Buck. Elsie gave him a smile, while Buck let out a low whistle.

"Good reminder, John," he told him.

"You could be an instructor at the academy or something!" Mickey remarked from across the room. The other ODSTs look impressed. Renee just sat on her box of ammo, quickly putting her pistol back together. Her cheeks were coloured from embarrassment, and as John took a closer look at her, she appeared almost as if she might cry.

However, he felt no remorse, knowing that he'd just put Renee back in her proper place. She'd thank him for it later, he knew. In good time, Renee would look back at her obnoxious ODST-inspired behavior and be revolted on how she acted and treated him and Elsie. Although, presently, Renee was nothing but embarrassed and probably angry at him for using her as an example during his reminder speech, but he think that she understood exactly why he did it.

Elsie nudged John's arm, and he glanced to her.

"Good job," she whispered.

John responded with a tiny nod, and looked back over across the room, as the ODSTs, having gotten their desired weapons, began to leave the room, headed for the docking bay. Renee however, remained seated on the ammo box, looking at her now assembled pistol. She finally decided to put it into the holster on her waist, but didn't make a move until the ODSTs had left, and John and Elsie were making their way out the door.

"John," when he heard her say his name, he knew instantly by the sharpness in her voice that she wanted to talk to him. He turned to face her, and Elsie continued on wordlessly without him, respecting their privacy. He made eye contact with her as a way to show he was listening, not saying a word.

"You made me look like an idiot," Renee said, tearing her eyes away from his and getting to her feet. She picked up her assault rifle, "After all this time I was trying to appear to be not so much of a dependent little weakling. Now you've just put me back down to square one again."

"I wasn't trying to do anything but to prove a point," John told her lowly, "And you know exactly what point I'm talking about."

"What, you don't like that I've start acting like I actually belong here in the corps?" She snapped, "So you had to belittle me again, just to prove that you're better? That you're stronger than me? Everyone is stronger than me, and I didn't need a frigging Spartan to help show everyone how helpless I am."

"I wasn't trying to make you look helpless."

"Oh, no, you just made me look just glamorous, John."

"What you're acting like is not you!" he exclaimed, "You're acting like those ODSTs, all talk and nothing to back it up. You were letting your ego go too far, thinking you're damn well better than everyone else. Guess what? You're not, we're all equal here, screw ranks. We're a team and I don't want you or anybody else going around with a pompous attitude. You acting like you're tough isn't attractive."

"You're full of shit," Renee shot back.

"Am I? You're delirious," John said, feeling his anger beginning to overwhelm him. He allowed himself to let out a chuckle, "I mean, what even happened? What the hell happened in these past two weeks? We're here fighting... we never used to fight..."

"We've fought ever since you came back," Renee said quietly, "I remember you shoving me on the floor."

"That was because of that damn stress disorder, you know that." John shoved his finger in her face, his voice getting low, "You know I would _never _hurt you on purpose."

"Well you just did! You singled me out and made me look like an idiot. That wasn't any accident!"

"I'm not arguing with you," John said simply, "You can think what you like, but we have a mission to complete, I hardly have time to stand here and fight with you about some petty little matter." He turned away from her, trying to control his anger. Putting his helmet on his head as he left the room, he heard her yell at his back:

"Then go, I'm not making you stay!"

John was glad that she stayed a fair distance behind him as he went to the docking bay, but when it came time to take the elevator to the docking bay floor, he paused, holding the door open for her as she strode angrily down the hallway. He half expected her to tell him that she'd get the next one, but she walked in without a word.

An awkwardly silent three second elevator trip what was happened next, and the doors weren't even fully open to the docking bay floor when Renee quickly got out of the elevator, walking down the narrow hallway that opened into the giant docking bay above them.

The team had already crowded around an awaiting Pelican. The Pelican's pilot looked half-asleep as he stood with them. The ODSTs, who usually were quick to comment, didn't say anything as they saw Renee walking quickly towards them, John coming more slowly behind. Elsie, who towered over the ODSTs, raised her eyebrows at John before putting her helmet on her head.

John switched on his internal com to speak to her.

"Tried to reason with her, but she isn't up for it."

"She looks really pissed."

"Oh well, it'll pass."

"Not in the mood for her?"

"Not even close. I'm almost fed up with trying to make things work."

"Giving up, that's not you, John."

"Well, at the moment, saving the universe all over again seems easier than dealing with her... maybe the Sangheili will start up another war."

"I certainly hope not. I wish I could offer advice, but I don't know."

"That's okay, Elsie."

John looked over to Renee, who had come to stand by Dutch and Mickey, but neither of them looked interested in saying anything to her. The expression on her face said enough to answer their questions, and it was apparent that she wasn't happy. Buck was looking at her with a rather smug look on his face, and John could tell by it alone that he was about to correct her.

"Lil Sarge," Buck said sure enough, "Whatever personal issues are bothering you, put them out of your mind. Focus on what's at hand here, that's an order."

"Yes, sir," she answered, her voice quiet, but it had an irritated undertone.

"We're just waiting for the briefing from Lyons and the Captain, they're coming to see us off," Buck told everyone, "We'll be off soon enough."

"Veronica isn't coming with us on this one?" Romeo questioned.

"You must be heartbroken, Gunny," Mickey piped up.

Buck fixed him with a glare.

"She's the Captain, so she has to stay with the ship. We ain't gonna just let it float around while we take a trip to the surface. And, when she's not here, that means I'm in ch..." Buck trailed off, and a look of disappointment came across his face when he remembered John and Elsie, who were both of a higher rank.

Dutch let out a chuckle at Buck's expression.

"It isn't just us Hell Jumpers this time, remember."

Buck shook his head, feeling defeated. He glanced over to the Spartans.

"Non-coms, right. Chief's in charge."

John caught Renee glance at him, and it wasn't very friendly. He sighed, feeling frustrated. Now he remembered why he preferred not to enter cryo-sleep. Sure, you got to sleep through all the time it took to travel to the destination, but when you woke up, you're left uninformed as to what happened while you were asleep. And now it was very clear that sleeping through two weeks of Slipspace when in the company of Renee and the ODSTs, a lot could happen in that short time.

He wasn't worried about Renee's behavior towards him; he knew she'd forgive him with time. However, he was worried that she'd let this cloud her focus and she would forget why they were here in the first place. Although Buck had already corrected her, being able to see her emotional troubles, John knew that the events that had occurred in the past fifteen minutes wouldn't quickly leave her mind.

John was relieved, however, when he saw Dare and Lyons enter the docking bay. Buck announced their arrival to the others professionally. Everyone straightened in posture, and John, Elsie and Buck stepped forward with the highest ranks and greeted them with a salute. Behind, the ODSTs followed their actions.

"Is everyone ready?" Veronica asked.

John figured he'd allow Buck to do the talking.

"Yes, we are all suited up and prepared to go top-side," he said. The add-on of "ma'am" he avoided, it was something he could get away with. Besides, knowledge of his relationship with Veronica wasn't exactly a secret.

"Good," she nodded, looking at everyone, "You're being flown to an area of the planet where life was detected. The planet is much like Earth in the ways that poles are colder and generally unable to sustain most life forms. The area in which you're being deployed is located near the planet's equator, but, don't think you'll be in the Caribbean, guys. The average temperature of the planet hovers around zero. There's snow."

"Jeez, I almost forgot," muttered Dutch. A couple of the others groaned in discontent at the thought of cold.

"If you have any extra clothing you would like to bring with you," Lyons spoke up, "This is the time to get it."

However, no one moved. They were wearing the heaviest of gear designed for colder regions. That and the clothes beneath were enough to keep them warm, and the Spartans, with their armour's built in temperature control, hadn't a thing to worry about.

"We're not sure if it's your Spartans that are down there," Veronica looked to John and Elsie, "But, there's life readings. Someone's alive on that planet. Now, Buck, John, you two will be able to keep in direct contact with me via your helmet-comms. Keep me informed on what's going on down there, and let me know if you need any back up."

"Yes, ma'am," John said, whilst Buck just nodded.

"Good luck," she finished.

It was a rather quiet ride to the surface. The ODSTs seemed rather bored in the Pelican's decent, as they were used to the more adrenaline-rush of the drop pods. They all sat, Renee included, but the Spartans stood. Elsie stood near the back hatch of the Pelican, one hand on the bulkhead to steady herself, where as John was near the cockpit, staring over the pilot's shoulder at the dense clouds they were going through.

Buck had passed around a package of gum, to help everyone with the changing of pressure and ear-popping that went along with it. He sat calmly in his seat, arms folded on his chest, chewing his gum somewhat like a cow lazily chewing on its cud. He would occasionally look over at Mickey, who was pressing his luck by blowing bubbles. They would burst with a loud pop that would echo throughout the Pelican. This would occasionally get a glance from the Spartans, either Elsie or John would turn to look at him, but they didn't say anything.

As Mickey was inflating what would be his tenth bubble, Romeo finally spoke up.

"You snap that thing one more time, Mick, and you're going to be taking a quicker trip to the surface."

"I'll help arrange that trip," Dutch muttered.

"Me too," Buck growled, "I gave you that gum to chew, not play with, Corporal."

"You guys are no fun," Mickey responded, and he looked to Rookie, who silently sat to his left, "They suck, don't they?"

Rookie just raised an eyebrow, and of course, didn't say anything.

"I wonder how Brute is doing without me," Mickey continued, speaking to anyone who was listening, "I left him in my room. Lyons said he'd check up on him for me, make sure he has food and stuff."

"We aren't going to be gone that long," Buck said.

Dutch suddenly laughed, pointing at Mickey.

"I'll laugh if that cat shits in your bed!"

The others joined in the laughter, except for Renee and the Spartans, who were silent and were keeping to themselves.

"Hey, Brute is a clean cat, he wouldn't do that," Mickey defended him, "He has his litter box."

"You never know! He might have separation issues and take a dump right on your pillow as revenge for you leaving him," Dutch said plainly, while the others guffawed at the thought.

John, who was half-listening to the conversation that had started up, stared out at the clouds thoughtfully. He was waiting to see land. He felt anxious, and almost nervous about what was ahead of them. Were Kelly, Linda, the Doctor and the others on this planet? Were they alive?

He glanced back over his shoulder to the ODSTs, Renee and Elsie. Elsie was standing motionless in the same position she'd been when they'd first left the ship. Renee was sitting in her seat, hugging her assault rifle against her chest, chewing her gum slowly, her eyes glued to the floor. No longer did she look angry, she actually looked a little weary, a little uncertain. She had hardly any color to her cheeks. John realized then that, she was nervous about this. He decided there and then to speak to her over his helmet comm.

"You okay?"

He watched her as she heard his voice, and she glanced up, staring uncertainly at his mirrored visor. He knew she wouldn't reply, but he watched as she slightly nodded her head – something that went unnoticed as the ODSTs continued in their humorous conversation about Mickey's cat.

John returned the slight nod, and then looked back out the cockpit, and saw, through the clouds, the peaks of snow covered mountains, jagged and harsh looking. They'd be landing soon.

As the back hatch to the Pelican opened, the team was greeted with a rush of cold, dry air. As they got to their feet as the Pelican touched ground, they squinted against the almost blinding white terrain. All that they could see was snow, trees, foliage and rocks covered in snow. The cold air nipped at their bare faces, and the ODSTs activated their visors, muttering their discontent. The Spartans, who felt none of the cold, were the first to step out into the elements, and they sunk shin-deep into the snow.

"Shit," Elsie remarked, looking down, "I forgot my snowshoes."

John chuckled slightly at her joke, and glanced back over his shoulder as the ODSTs and Renee jumped out of the Pelican, sinking deeper into the snow than the seven-foot Spartans. Several of them cursed. Renee, who was struggling to pull a scarf up around her nose and mouth, looked disgusted.

"What the hell, this ain't no winter wonderland," Buck said, "Chief, we're _walking _through this?"

"Yes," John nodded, watching the Pelican as it took off, "We've got roughly two hours on the ground before the Pelican comes back, two hours to search for any signs of human life. There's been a life reading in this area, and we have to find out if it's our missing comrades. The best way is to split up, don't worry about getting lost, if you do, Elsie or I will find you. Dutch, you go with Mickey. Romeo, you're with Rookie. Buck, you're with Renee. I'll be with Elsie. As Spartans, the two of us will cover more ground together than if one of you were paired with us. Understood?"

Everyone nodded, and no one seemed to complain with their pairings.

"Dutch, Mickey, you head west. Romeo, Rookie, east. Buck, Renee, north. And Elsie and I will cover the south," John explained, "That's a lot of area to cover, but keep your eyes and ears out for anything human. Now, before we set out, make sure we're all set onto the same comm-channel – channel 1." He paused as they set their helmet comms, then continued, "Now, everyone, be careful. Let's go."

There was a couple of seconds where no one moved, but when everyone finally did, it was at the same time. The pairs set off in their instructed directions, the sound of their boots trudging through the crisp snow seeming fairly loud against the quiet surroundings, accompanied by the now far-off Pelican as it took to the sky, heading back to the _Midnight Sun_.

With John and Elsie, they started speaking almost immediately.

"I hope we find them," Elsie was the first, taking larger steps than usual to compete with the snow.

"Me too," John agreed, "If they're here, they'll show up on our motion trackers. Anything or anyone else without a neural interface will show up as an enemy, so we'll know instantly if it's them."

"This is a different planet," she remarked, "I'm glad we have our armor. Do you see the temperature readings?"

"Pretty cold... I just hope the others brought enough extra clothing to keep warm."

"Do you think they'll be fine in pairs?" Elsie questioned.

"Their ODSTs, of course they will... and I put Renee with Buck because – you wouldn't have caught me saying this a few weeks ago – I trust him. I know he'll keep her safe. He was the one who prevented her from dying when she decided to run the Spartan course."

"That's right, too. He seems like a good soldier. He just has that ODST attitude..." she paused, "The one you hopefully kicked out of Renee. She was quiet on the way down."

"I noticed," John nodded, "I think she's slightly nervous about this. It's her first real mission in a long time. It's not like we have Covenant to fight, but I can understand how she's feeling. Buck will keep her jolly enough, that's another reason why I put her with him."

Renee tugged at the scarf around her neck, trying to keep it up around her nose and mouth. However, she wasn't doing that great of a job, for she only had one hand free. And the assault rifle seemed heavy to hold with just one hand. After a couple more seconds of struggling with the scarf as she walked alongside Buck. She felt disgusted – for the snow was something foreign to her. She'd only seen it on the mountain tops of Los Angeles in the winter months, and never had experienced it in person.

And, screw the snow, the temperature was the worst! It was cold, colder than she recalled ever experiencing before in her lifetime.

"You don't look pleased," Buck said after a few moments.

"I'm not," she replied, "This snow, and this cold, it's ridiculous."

"It's not that cold, only minus three," he chuckled slightly, "I suppose you're used to LA temperatures?"

"I've lived there my whole life. Never been in snow, and certainly have never felt it this cold."

"You'll live," Buck assured her, "This is nothing compared to the winters of Draco III, where I grew up. I lived fairly north, so we got our fair share of snow during the winter. Once, the temperature was in the minus thirties."

Renee gave him a surprised look, and Buck just laughed, shaking his head.

"Do you think they're here?" she changed the subject, "The Spartans?"

"I don't know," Buck shrugged, "This is the only planet that gave us life readings, but if we don't find them here, I have no clue where they are."

"What will happen if we don't find them?"

"I guess we'll have to turn back. I know John and Elsie won't want to, but if we can't find them on this planet, we're not going on a wild goose chase. We can't spend forever looking for just a few soldiers. It sounds harsh, but it's practical."

"Oh," Renee replied quietly, "I hope they're here."

"Me too."

As they continued to walk, Renee caught something out of the corner of her eye, amongst the snow covered branches of trees. She turned her head, bringing her assault rifle slowly up, stopping. It didn't take Buck long to clue in, he froze, bringing up his assault rifle too.

"What?" he asked in a near whisper.

"I swear I saw something move. Through those trees over there."

Buck nodded, and the two of them started to inch closer, trying to make their footsteps as quiet as possible in the snow, but it was a difficult task. Renee allowed Buck to get a little ahead of her, as he approached the tree where she saw the movement. He slowly reached forward to the snow covered branch – and then what happened next was split second. His fingers just brushed the branch, when suddenly, he was looking down the barrel of a pistol. Renee whipped her assault rifle, aimed directly at the owner of the pistol – a uniformed man with winter camouflage, goggles and a scarf covering his nose and mouth.

"Freeze!" She shouted, but Buck and the unknown hostile had each other at gunpoint – but she had her gun on the hostile as well. Suddenly, she felt a cold barrel of a gun jabbed into her neck, and a cold, harsh voice spoke:

"No, you freeze."

There was a pause, and Renee felt herself go numb, petrified with the gun pointed at her. She looked to Buck, and saw another one of the camouflaged hostiles had come up behind him too, aiming an assault rifle right at the back of his head. An assault rifle that _wasn't_ one of the UNSC-issued weapons.

She met Buck's eyes, and he slowly shook his head.

"Drop your weapons!" the hostile behind Renee shouted, causing her to flinch, "Or we'll blow the both of your heads right clean off."

"We're with the United Nations Space Co..." Buck started, but he only succeeded in getting the AK47 jabbed into his neck.

"We know who you are!" the one with the assault rifle shouted, "Drop your weapons!"

Renee and Buck had no choice. There were two crunches as their assault rifles dropped into the snow. A couple other of the hostiles grabbed them up, and Renee watched out of the corner of her eye as they simply tossed them into the forest.

She flinched as someone grabbed her pistol from the holster, as with Buck's, and threw them too into the forest. Now, she felt the gun at her neck be jabbed into her back, and the cold voice from behind her speak again:

"Put your hands on the back of your head,"

Shakily, she did as she was told, and she glanced over to Buck as he did the same. She made eye contact with him, looking for an answer. He moved his lips but made no sound. However, she was able to make out what he was trying to tell her, and instantly she knew this was going to be trouble.

"_Insurrectionists_."

**A/N: **So sorry guys about the gigantic blunder in the plot, for a while there I was fretting and thought it couldn't be fixed. I even wrote a hiatus message and everything, thinking this just couldn't be continued, but I've found a way around it... I think.


	23. Not According To Plan

**Chapter 23 – Not According To Plan **

**September 18****th****, 2553 – Habitable Planet – Zeta Doradus System**

There was a moment's silence as Renee and Buck stood at gunpoint, hands on the back of their heads, surrounded by the group of Insurrectionists. A light wind could be heard rustling the trees overhead, but that was the only movement for what seemed to be forever.

Renee held her breath, hoping that John, or one of the other ODSTs would come out of nowhere and help them get out of this jam – but there was no way of contacting them over her helmet's intercom without one of the Innies probably shooting her first. There was no way to let the others know they were in trouble.

She still felt the gun at her back, and wondered if they were going to shoot her and Buck. Being shot was something that wasn't foreign to her, and she strangely enough, she didn't feel afraid, for she knew what might be coming. As she stood there in the snow, she could recall how it felt, mentally preparing herself for the feeling again. However, she heard no gunshots, felt no pain, just the continued silence.

However, Buck was the one to break it.

"We aren't your enemy," he spoke up, but Rene could only watch as the soldier behind him bashed him with the butt of the rifle, and Buck grimaced, staggering – but he didn't fall. Renee wanted to help him, but didn't dare move.

"Shut your mouth," the man who had struck him ordered.

"Why are you here, then?" demanded the one behind Renee, "If it is not to try and eliminate us, then why are you here?"

Renee was afraid to speak, but Buck didn't look like he was able to, he was still hunched over, recovering from the blow, his face scrunched up into one of pain.

"We're searching for our comrades," Renee spoke up, paused, and waited for the one behind her to strike her with the rifle, but it didn't happen, so she continued, "They disappeared last year... we've come to find them, that's all. We don't want any conflicts with you."

"They're probably dead!" Said the one who had hit Buck, and the others laughed at this.

"They're Spartans," Renee snapped, "And I can assure you, they aren't dead."

"Spartans," scoffed the one behind her mockingly, "The UNSC's super soldiers... Stop trying to make them sound scary, because we aren't afraid of no goddamn robots!"

"Those 'robots' are the ones who saved the universe from certain destruction," Buck spoke up, straightening, "If it weren't for them, no one in this universe would be alive. So you Innies better show some goddamn respect."

Renee held her breath, waiting for Buck's mouth to once again get him in trouble, but they didn't hit him again. Instead, a new soldier stepped into view, walking up to Buck. He was tall, but Renee didn't get to see his face, only his back as he stopped in front of Buck, taking off his goggles.

"Considering you're the one at gunpoint, here, Sergeant, I'd advise that you be the one showing some respect," He spoke, his voice deep – and Renee seemed to find it oddly familiar. He turned to look at her, and when she saw his face, she felt like she'd been doused in ice water. She knew him.

"Scottie!" she exclaimed before she could think. She watched his facial expression change unexpectedly. His blue eyes widened, eyebrows raised, but Renee continued in utter disbelief, "Scottie... Fisher?"

It _was _Scottie. Troy Fisher's older brother, who she'd only known for a few years. He had joined the UNSC, but had gone MIA within a couple of years, and no one, not even Troy knew what happened to him. However, now, Renee realized it made complete sense. Scottie had gone off and joined the Insurrectionists.

She was looking into a face that was much like Troy's, there was no denying he was his brother. The same eyes, similar shaped but wider face. His nose looked like Troy's had before he'd broken it. However, his face was aged, hardened.

Scottie's hand snapped forward and yanked the scarf from around her nose and mouth, and stared at her face for a moment, narrowing his eyes as he tried to recognize her. No one moved, there was silence. Then, Scottie reached around her neck, fishing for her dog tags. When he found them, he pulled them out from underneath her uniform, squinting to read her name. When he did, a half grin came to his face.

"So, Troy got his little girlfriend to follow after him and join the UNSC," he said after a moment, his voice mocking, "How sweet." A thoughtful pause, "I'm surprised you've made it this far."

"Troy didn't," Renee informed him, and waited for Scottie's face to transform into one of loss, however there was hardly a change of expression. He hardly batted an eye, and he said nothing, so she decided to make it more clear to him, and it hurt to say the words, "He's dead."

Scottie raised a brow, and let go of her dog tags, but said nothing.

"You know this girl?" the one behind Renee asked.

"Not well," Scottie said, "Not well enough to have any remorse if we shoot her." Then, all of a sudden, Renee felt the cold barrel of a pistol pressed right to her forehead, and it was Scottie who was holding it. This time, she knew she couldn't hold back her fear. There would be no cheating death if he decided to pull the trigger.

"Don't!" she heard Buck yell, and she heard a commotion that must be a couple of the Insurrectionists trying to hold him back. If she looked straight ahead, Renee could see Scottie's finger slowly tightening around the trigger. Her life suddenly flashed before her eyes in a panic, a wave of images that attacked her brain. What she saw next was Scottie's finger squeeze the trigger – and all she heard was a click. She jumped, and realized it wasn't loaded. She could only stare in disbelief at the barrel in a sort of mute shock.

"For fuck sakes!" Buck shouted, but Scottie lowered the pistol, a small smile on his face.

"You honestly think I was going to kill her?" he questioned, laughter present in his voice "We may not like you, but we wouldn't kill you two before questioning you."

Renee felt weak in the knees – she'd been _that _close to death.

"Take them back to the bunker," she heard Scottie say, "Lock them up. Remove all their gear. We've got ourselves some leverage here; the UNSC might do our bidding if we threaten to kill two of their Sergeants."

"Do you think these two are that important?" one asked.

"One of them was my brother's little girlfriend, my brother was a Lieutenant..." Scottie grinned, "I bet she knows a thing or two about the UNSC that she can tell us." He looked to Buck, "That one probably knows a fair bit, too. I look forward to questioning them both."

Renee and Buck once again got jabbed in the back with rifles, and were ordered to walk. Renee, who was in utter disbelief, glanced back over her shoulder at Scottie. He used to be in the UNSC, he used to be good. He used to care. One memory she had of him, was before Troy or she had gotten their license, Scottie would always take them out for drives while blaring his loud rock music.

And Scottie had just aimed an unloaded gun at her head and pulled the trigger.

It definitely wasn't the same Scottie anymore.

* * *

"We're not getting anything, John," Elsie said as they continued in their trek, "Not a single blip on our motion trackers..."

John, for a moment was silent, listening to the crunching of their boots in the snow.

"Check in with the others."

"Dutch, Mickey, how are things with you?" Elsie said over the slight static on their TEAMCOM. There was a few seconds before a reply, but it was Mickey who came back.

"Not a damn thing," he said, "No signs of human life."

There was a hiss as Romeo came on.

"Same here, this place is dead."

John narrowed his eyes, knowing there had been a life reading on this planet. There had to be someone. He waited a few seconds to see if Renee or Buck would report back, but nothing came from their radio. He glanced to Elsie, and at that moment she tried to contact them.

"Lil Sarge, Gunny, report, over."

All that came back was static. John waited a few seconds before trying himself.

"Renee, Buck, respond, that's an order."

More static.

John felt his adrenaline rising. He could hear his heart pounding in his ears.

"They wouldn't turn their headsets off," Elsie said quietly.

"Something's wrong."

As if on cue, Dutch came over the intercom:

"Can any of you contact Gunny and Lil Sarge?"

"Negative," John answered. His mind began whizzing, going over the possibilities as to why they weren't responding. There wasn't a chance of technical difficulties. The headsets were able to keep in contact with other personnel up to twenty miles away, and the Spartan ones were even more advanced. Even if one of them happened to fail, it wouldn't be coincidental that both Buck and Renee's would fail at the same time when they were together. He finally decided that they must be in trouble.

"Everyone double back," John ordered, "Follow your tracks and meet at the LZ point. From there on we'll try to find Buck and Renee."

"Affirmative," Dutch came back.

"You aren't contacting the Captain first?" Elsie questioned John. In the certain way she was standing, her SPI armor had partially camouflaged her against a large fir tree.

"No, not until we're certain there's a problem." John was trying to make himself calm; despite deep down he knew there had to be a problem. There was no other reason why either Buck or Renee wouldn't respond.

As he and Elsie turned back, John bit his lip beneath his helmet, thankful for his polarized visor, because he knew at that moment his face was betraying him by showing blatant worry. His mind took him back to 2535, so long ago, when he had made the promise to Renee that he would never let anything bad happen to her. He'd already broken that promise to her when she'd been shot by the Elite, and broken it again when he left her side, only to have her fall out of bed and suffer head trauma that sent her into her eighteen year coma. He didn't want to break it again.

With a glance in Elsie's direction, he spoke, fully aware of the concern to be heard in his voice:

"Let's go, quickly."

* * *

Buck and Renee were forced through the snow laden forest at gunpoint, moving at a rather quick pace. The group of Insurrectionists seemed to be in a hurry, and wouldn't hesitate to hit either of them with their rifles if they thought they weren't moving fast enough. The two marines were helmetless, having been made to discard them back at the point where they'd been ambushed.

Occasionally, one of them would stumble in the almost knee deep snow, and be shoved on by one of the Innies behind them. Renee and Buck both looked grim, and exchanged glances every so often.

Renee was half expecting Buck to try something, perhaps pull a hidden gun from his ODST armor and get them out of this situation, but deep down she knew they couldn't so much as move suspiciously without being shot.

Her mind was whirring; the only enemy she had fought during her time in the UNSC had been Covenant. Aliens, not humans. She knew of the Insurrectionists, and their hatred of the UNSC, but found it difficult to understand why they still held a grudge. The war was over between humanity and the Covenant, and one would think that after fighting an alien alliance that almost wiped them from existence, all humans should feel obliged to get along in peace.

Peace, had it ever existed in the first place?

She wondered what these Innies hoped to get out of her and Buck. What type of information would they have, that they want? She was a mere grunt, and Buck was an ODST. Although she wasn't sure about what Buck had seen in his time of service. Renee was sure she hadn't experienced anything or been told anything that they would want to know.

Think positive, she told herself. She knew that one of the team would try to contact them, or maybe they already had, and received no response. John and Elsie, Spartans, they would realize something was wrong. They would retrace her and Buck's steps, and find out they'd been taken hostage, find their discarded weapons and helmets, and simply follow the tracks through the snow to wherever the Innies were taking them.

A bunker, Scottie had said.

Scottie. He was walking ahead of her and Buck, almost calmly as if capturing a couple of UNSC personnel was an everyday thing for him. Even from behind, she could tell he was Troy's brother. He wasn't as quite as tall as Troy had been, although her memory of Troy's height was foggy, but he was of a similar build.

The thought that Scottie had gone over to the other side still boggled her mind. She had still been in training when Troy had seen his brother's name on the MIA list of personnel. Troy however, never spoke of Scottie afterwards, not accepting that he was dead, but not truly thinking he was alive, either.

And to think, Scottie had been alive and well all this time, but with the Innies.

Renee looked past Scottie and saw they'd arrived at the bunker. It was a concrete bunker emerging from a bank. A large steel door marked the entrance, and a couple of guards stood outside holding confetti-makers, a signature weapon preferred by the Innies.

She glanced to Buck, and he gave her a little smile to try and boost her morale. She returned the smile, although she had a strange feeling that once they were inside that bunker, nothing good would be waiting for them.

They were taken inside the bunker, still at gunpoint. It was cold even inside, and dimly lit. They were lead down a series of hallways and a single set of stairs. Renee tried her best to memorize the place so that if the opportunity came, she and Buck could find their way out and escape, but there wasn't anything signature about the place. The walls were the same, the lights were the same... everything looked the same.

Renee and Buck were escorted into a room that they instantly recognized as holding cells. There were a few of them, all of them empty, with black steel bars and number-coded locks on the doors.

"Alright," Scottie stopped at the closest cell and turned to face Renee and Buck, "Now, either you can do this yourselves or I'll have a couple of my men do it for you. Remove all of your gear. I want you in your dog tags, t-shirts and fatigues only. Everything else... off."

Renee exchanged glances with Buck; he gave her a look that told her to do what he said. It took them a couple of minutes, but they removed their gear wordlessly. Scottie let out a scoff when he saw Buck's knife he had tucked in his boot.

"And you didn't try to use that!" he sounded surprised, as one of the other Innies quickly confiscated the knife from Buck. He glanced to both Buck and Renee, who had removed everything they had been told. However, he glanced down to their still socked feet.

"Socks get them off."

Renee, who was already chilled, gave Scottie an insane look.

"But, we'll freeze!" she said, but the moment the words left her mouth she felt a gun jabbed into her back. Scottie gave her a slightly sympathetic look.

"You won't be freezing soon enough," he said coldly.

As Buck and Renee reluctantly took off their socks, they exchanged glances as they were bent down. Renee mouthed to him, "Do something."

He shook his head, his mouth pressed into a tight line. Renee knew she was stupid to have asked him. Buck couldn't do anything more than she could.

"Now get in the cell," Scottie said, gesturing to the open door, "Both of you. Make yourselves at home. I have to go inform the others of your visit... and we'll be back in a short time to get you for your interrogations."

"Interrogations?" Buck spoke up as he and Renee were impatiently shoved in the cell by the two other Innies, and the door was slammed shut in his face, "What do you possibly want to know?"

The two other Innies with the weapons seemed willing to try to shut him up, but Scottie gave them a glance to tell them to leave, and they did, almost hesitantly. He waited until they had gone completely from the room before speaking again.

"Yes, interrogations," Scottie repeated, taking his goggles completely from his head and tucking them in his pocket. He paused to take out a package of cigarettes and a lighter, taking out a cigarette and lighting it. Inhaling a deep breath, he glanced up to Renee and Buck, "I could call it something less frightening, if you'd like. An interview, perhaps." When he spoke, the smell of cigarette smoke filled the room, a smell that Renee strangely found calming. She hadn't smoked since she was nineteen, and only then had she relied on one every once and a while to calm her nerves. She glanced to Buck, however, who had scrunched up his nose at the smell.

Scottie saw his expression, but then saw Renee's, and he held out the package of cigarettes to her.

"You can have one," he said.

Renee raised her hand for a moment, paused, but slipped her hand through the bars and took a cigarette from the package. A quick glance to Buck proved his disapproval, but she put the cigarette in her mouth and leaned forward so that Scottie could light it.

There were a couple of minutes of silence where Renee and Scottie smoked, and Buck just stood, holding the bars of the cell, observing the room.

"I'm not all that bad," Scottie told them after a moment, "We're still humans. You guys have been fighting aliens for way too long. We're just rebels, and happen to hate the UNSC. Don't take anything personally; it's not that we hate you as people. We hate you because you're with them."

"That makes little sense," Buck spoke, seeming to have gained more self control, even though he didn't appear at all happy, "That's the same mentality as hating someone because they like beer and you like hard liquor."

Scottie chuckled at his comparison.

"It's not quite the same thing."

"Why did you do it?" Renee demanded, taking the cigarette from her lips and fixing Scottie with a glare.

"Why did I do what?"

"You know damn well what you did."

"Look, the gun wasn't loaded."

"I'm not talking about the gun!" Renee felt her frustration rising, "I'm talking about twenty years ago when you just disappeared. Do you realize you let Troy and your parents think you were dead?"

Scottie just shook his head.

"They never proved I was dead, I do believe I'm listed as MIA."

"How could you do that to your brother, to your family?" she demanded, "Just disappear, and leave them wondering if you're ever going to come home?"

"You're not going to sway me," he answered simply, turning away. He began shoving their gear out of the path and to the farthest wall, "Why do you care so much, anyway? Aren't you supposed to be some hardened grunt? Look at you," Scottie let out a chuckle, "You don't even have a tattoo. You're so out of place, I think you should have stayed back in school and convinced my little brother to have done the same."

"He couldn't be convinced," Renee tapped the ashes from her cigarette. She glanced back over her shoulder to watch Buck, who went over to the furthest wall and sat down on the floor. Looking back to Scottie, she felt pained talking about Troy, "If you ask me, one of the main reasons he joined was because you did."

"Well, that was some stupid of him, wasn't it?" a pause, "That's the way it is with the goddamn UNSC. People are like a herd of sheep, where one goes, the rest follow. The UNSC made it look glamorous, that going off and fighting for humanity against a far superior race of aliens was going to be a walk in the park. All they did was sent millions of people to slaughter. I'm amazed that you actually won."

Renee was silent for a moment, and she remembered, one of the only reasons why this war had been won was because of John.

"What matters is that we won," Buck spoke up, "And that it's over. That shows your intelligence, you rebels... we just won a thirty year war and might get a chance to have a bit of peace. Yet you Innies want to still stir up shit!"

"You're the ones on our planet," Scottie raised an eyebrow.

"We don't want anything to do with you. We came here looking for missing soldiers."

"There is no one here but us. Trust me, I think we would know if there were your missing robots running around here," Scottie shrugged, "Sorry."

"Then let us be on our way," Renee spoke up, "We'll leave! We want nothing to do with you! You say you want to interrogate us. Look at us, he's a Gunnery Sergeant and I'm a Sergeant. A couple of foot soldiers. We know nothing that would benefit you."

"You'd be surprised," Scottie answered, "Think for a minute, I bet you know people, know things you're not supposed to tell. If you don't, Helljumper over there certainly does," he glanced to Buck, who folded his arms on his chest and didn't say anything, "I was in the UNSC long enough to learn about your squad. You freefall into the atmosphere in little drop pods, and get sent on missions that aren't seen to be as fit for normal marines, correct?"

Buck remained quiet.

"I'll be back," Scottie said lowly, putting his cigarette in his mouth. He turned and headed towards the door. His footsteps echoed as he left the room. Renee let out a sigh, throwing the remains of her cigarette through the bars onto the floor, and turned to face Buck.

"They're going to question me about things I don't know," she shook her head, "I was in the UNSC for not even four years. I don't know anything, but they'll think I'm lying."

"You're boyfriend is a Spartan, the hero of this entire war," Buck looked at her with an almost regretful expression, "You know things about him."

"They don't know that."

"Don't tell them anything," he sounded determined, "Not a word."

"What if they try to kill me?" Renee's voice grew far off, "What then?"

"Don't say anything, you can't," Buck said, "You'll be in risk of facing a court martial if you give up any top secret information."

"I don't know any top secret information!"

"Yes you do, you have to," he ran his fingers through his hair with a sigh, "You're with John. You were the only civilian present during the Covenant crash in LA. You know things about the Spartan program, don't you? You know about Elsie. Elsie's a Spartan III, her existence is supposed to be unknown to any non UNSC personnel."

"What are they going to do to us, Eddie?" Renee sounded weary. She walked over to him and sat beside him, leaning against the wall.

"Don't worry about that," Buck said, sounding relatively calm, "You have to be strong. Besides, I bet my squad and the Spartans have realized there's something wrong. They'll be coming for us, if they're not already. I..." Buck trailed off, seeming to think over his words, "I won't let them do anything to you. It's the least I can do for John."

"Thanks," she muttered. John, the thought of him was still sour to her. She remembered how he'd singled her out and made her look like a fool. She remembered how she had talked to him. She'd told him that he was full of shit, when he was the one who knew better than probably anyone else. Now, coincidentally, she had been the one to taken hostage by Insurrectionists. She and John had parted on a sour note, and her mind began to wander. What if these Insurrectionists ended up killing her and Buck before the others could come for them? The last words she'd spoken to John had been nothing less but cruel.

Bothered by the fact, she decided to change the subject away from John:

"Is it true, what Scottie said? About me not fitting in?"

"You honestly give a shit what he thinks?" Buck gave her a quizzical look, "You don't have to have 24 inch arms, washboard abs and be covered in tattoos to be considered a marine. You're a marine, Lil Sarge, you may be a little on the tiny side, but you're one of us."

"Aren't we going to try to break out or something?" Renee raised her eyebrow, trying to lighten the mood, "Like, isn't this where you're supposed to whip out a plasma pistol from a magical pocket and melt the bars and we escape?"

Buck laughed at this, shaking his head.

"I wish."

* * *

John, Elsie and the ODSTs had rendezvoused and now found themselves following two sets of footprints, the smaller ones being Renee's, the larger ones belonging to Buck. They were mostly silent, walking in the V-formation, weapons held at their hips. The two Spartans were in the lead, with their advanced armor and HUD displays, they would be the first to notice anything ahead of the ODSTs.

They were moving cautiously, John was studying the footprints, watching for any irregularities, but they stayed steady, mostly parallel with each other at an average distance apart. The spacing of their feet indicated they'd been just walking casually as he was now. John glanced to his HUD, something he was still getting used to. Up in the left hand corner there was his health stats, along with Elsie's and the ODSTs. Renee and Buck's showed up as well, their health stats were normal. Whatever happened, they weren't physically harmed. He glanced to his motion tracker, which read nothing except for his team following along behind him.

John looked ahead, following the footprints, when suddenly he noticed a change in their pattern. About a hundred meters ahead of them, there was a large area where the snow had been beaten down and intensely trodden upon.

He paused, raising his hand into the air, slowly closing it into a fist. The ODSTs stopped behind him. Wordlessly, John surveyed the scene from a distance. From what he could see, there looked to have been a commotion of some kind. Snow had been knocked from the branches of the fir trees. His adrenaline slowly began to rise.

John glanced back over his shoulder to the others, and then made the gesture to slowly move forward. Fluffy snow was beginning to flutter down out of the sky. The forest was completely quiet except for the crunching of their boots as they approached the scene.

He knew with a glance that something had happened. John instantly spotted footprints – human – that varied in size and had different treads than that of Renee and Buck's boots. Someone else had been here. Different sets of footprints came towards this area from different directions, all around. There was an area in the center where the snow had been so heavily beaten down that it was hard to distinguish who had walked where.

"What happened here?" Dutch asked, it was a whisper. The ODSTs and the Spartans had slowly begun to creep out onto the scene, looking for any evidence.

"Found something!" Mickey called out almost instantly. John whipped around, to see him grimly raise to full height, holding Renee and Buck's helmets, one in each hand. He felt his blood run cold.

"Me too," Elsie said softly, and she brushed aside a lower branch of a fir tree to show their weapons lying in the snow. John was bewildered, and for a moment, he didn't know what to say.

"They were taken by someone," Romeo put the pieces together before John opened his mouth, "Hostage, by the looks of it. Must have been at gunpoint... and caught off guard. There's no way they would've surrendered their helmets and weapons otherwise."

"The human life readings on this planet must be hostiles," Elsie looked to John, "Not our Spartans."

John looked to his health stats again on his HUD, Buck and Renee's health stats were still reading normal. These hostiles that took Buck and Renee must want them alive and unharmed, or that's how it appeared at the moment. John hardly lost his cool during missions, but his adrenaline was on the rise, right on par with his anger and frustration. He didn't want to speak; he didn't know what to say. What could he say? Obviously it was clear that they should follow the cluster of footprints through the snow, to see where Renee and Buck had been taken, and to get them back safely.

"Let's move," he said finally, his voice coming out low and intimidating. The snow was beginning to fall harder, and it wouldn't take long for the footprints to be filled and their tracks to be covered. Wordlessly, John led the way, heading in a westerly direction, Elsie right by his side and the ODSTs in tow. Everyone remained as quiet as he, for it was clear to tell, just by the tone of his voice, that John wasn't anything but angry.

* * *

"It's not good if my feet are slowly freezing off, right?" Renee asked Buck. The two of them still sat on the floor of the holding cell against the back wall. Renee had her knees pulled up to her chest and she was slightly shivering. Buck took a glance down to her feet.

"They look fine," he told her with a slight grin, "No signs of frostbite."

"I think they just made us take off our socks for the discomfort," she muttered, "This floor is freezing, this entire room is freezing."

"Well, it's not every day we get kidnapped by Insurrectionists on a distant planet with average minus degree temperatures," Buck shrugged, "Don't worry. I'm pissed, but, there are two Spartans and my ODSTs coming for us. I wouldn't be surprised if they're not here already."

"I admire your ability to remain calm," Renee said.

Just as the words left her mouth, they both looked up to see Scottie come back into the room, with the same two Innies that had been with him before. They still had their confetti makers, and stopped in the doorway as Scottie crossed over to the cell.

"Guess what time it is," Scottie said smugly, giving them a smile, "Talking time." He paused to punch in the digits in the lock on the door, and there was a loud buzz as the door unlocked. He yanked it open, gesturing with his thumb towards the guards.

Renee and Buck both got to their feet, and Renee was the first to walk out of the cell. Just as Buck was to follow her, Scottie held out his hand, shaking his head.

"Nope, you're staying here." Scottie told him, shutting the door quickly. Renee whipped around and saw the bars between her and Buck, and instantly felt panic go through her as she heard Scottie say, "One at a time."

"What?" Buck demanded, glancing from Renee's worried face back to Scottie, "Why?"

"It's practical," Scottie raised an eyebrow, "If we were to interrogate the both of you at the same time, you no doubt would collaborate, lie, and leave things out. You can get a lot more out of a person when their fellow soldier isn't there with them."

He grabbed Renee's upper arm, leading her towards the exit. She glanced back over her shoulder to Buck, her heart pounding. What were they going to do? Torture her? Her mind began to betray her with all sorts of thoughts, and she could feel her knees beginning to get weak.

_Stop it,_ a voice in her head told her, _you're a marine. Stay tough, act tough, and don't tell them anything. _

Renee was led down more series of confusing hallways, until they arrived at a dimly lit room consisting of a table and a chair. It was like something from a movie. Scottie walked her over to the chair, and practically shoved her down into it. One of the Innies that followed them grabbed her arm and slapped on an old pair of handcuffs, one on her wrist, and the other to the arm of the chair. She felt her stomach flip. Once this was done, the two Innies with the confetti makers left the room.

Scottie waited until they were gone off down the hallway before he leaned in close to her face.

"Now," he said, his voice kept low, "I know you were my brother's girlfriend. That won't change anything. I'm not going to be the one to ask you the questions. My advice is to answer all questions truthfully, don't lie. I don't want to be around to witness what will happen to you if you don't."

Renee found it difficult to breathe.

"And what would that be?" she stammered.

"They'll kill you," Scottie answered, "Or mess you up that bad you'll die later."

Before she could think, Renee grabbed a hold of his sleeve with a vicelike grip.

"Please," she said, "Do something. Scottie... you can't just..." he tried to pull away, and her words came out faster, "Don't you remember taking Troy and I places? In that old car of yours? You can't let them kill me or Buck, Scottie! You can't..."

"I have no control over this," Scottie told her, breaking from her grasp, "I'm sorry."

"Scottie, wait!" Renee called after him as he headed for the door, "What is it they expect me to know? I was in a coma for eighteen years... I don't know anything about what happened recently in the war... I..." she stopped as Scottie left without another word.

Five minutes Renee sat in the room alone, handcuffed to the chair like a prisoner. Five minutes she had to think over what she might say, and try to think of what they could possibly ask of her. All they knew of her was her name and rank, nothing more. They knew nothing of her involvement with John, or the fact that she was well informed about the Spartan projects, or involved in the Covenant crash in LA. As she thought the thoughts, she grew paranoid, thinking that someone might be able to read her mind.

Buck had told her not to say anything, no matter what... but Scottie had just told her to basically talk or else. What should she do?

Renee looked around the room at its contents. One table, one chair. Concrete walls, floor, ceiling. A steel door, no windows, no source of light besides one lamp hanging above her head. Her mind was beginning to run on her, as she thought of the worst. Would this room be where she would die?

She closed her eyes, thought of John. Tried to picture his face, tried to remember his voice, remember his laugh, remember his smile, just in case. Just in case _what_? She had to think positive. They weren't going to kill her. John would be coming for her and Buck. He, Elsie and the ODSTs would get them out of here safe and sound.

Positive, think positive, think positi –

Renee jumped when the door swung open, and she watched as three men walked into the room, one a head taller than the other. Each of them wore fatigues, but of course, not UNSC issue. The Insurrectionist symbol, red and black, was visible on their breast pocket. She studied their faces. One of them, was older, with a strong face and greying hair. He was the tall one. The other two men were younger, younger than she was, late twenties perhaps. However, their expressions were all serious, unfriendly. The tall one, she noticed, had a scar going through his lip, and his nose was bent out of shape from being broken at some point in time. He had a pistol in his belt, the same make that Scottie had pressed to her forehead before, and as well, a large knife. The other two had confetti makers slung over their shoulders.

For a moment, as the three of them approached the table, nothing was said. Renee looked at them, and they looked right back, the tall man seeming however more interested in her appearance.

"You look scared, Sergeant," the tall man spoke, his voice gravelly – and he had traces of a Southern accent.

It took Renee a moment in her fear to realize it was her he was speaking to. She wasn't quite sure how to respond, she didn't want to deny it, but she didn't want to placidly agree, either. She opened her mouth to speak, but he bet her to the punch.

"I assume Fisher has told you of the circumstances?" the tall man raised an eyebrow, folding his arms behind his back, "We're here to ask you a few questions. You're a marine in the United Nations Space Command."

Renee nodded in response.

"If this is what the marines are looking like, nowadays, no wonder the UNSC has gone to hell," he let out an amused chuckle, before leaning forward on the table, looking her right in the face, "Let me tell you something girl, with your looks, you should have gone off and become a model. Shame you didn't, because if you don't talk, I'm going to have no choice but to scar up that pretty little face of yours."

Renee could feel what little color had been in her face leave, and she gripped the sides of the chair.

"What do you want to know?" she asked finally, her voice coming out quiet.

"Everything," he said, "Let's first start off with names. I'm General Banks."

"Sergeant Renee Kilburn," Renee said, hearing her own voice waver.

"Renee, that's French, isn't it?" General Banks asked thoughtfully, although it was a mockingly rhetorical question, "Pretty name, pretty face, but you're not in a pretty situation. Firstly, you can start off by telling me why you are here on our planet."

"Gunnery Sergeant Buck and I, we were deployed on a mission to go looking for a few of our personnel that have been missing before the war ended. We saw there were life readings on this planet, and thought it could possibly be them."

"Well, I hate to tell you that we're the only ones here," Banks told her, "None of your MIA soldiers."

"We never came here with intentions of hostility," Renee replied, "Like I said, we were _looking _for our missing personnel. Not here to start any trouble with you."

The expression that came on General Banks' face was smug. The other two men walked around behind her.

"Then why the hell were you dressed to fight a goddamn war?"

"It is standard protocol..." she started.

"Standard protocol, bull shit!"

"No!" Renee protested, "It's the..."

Then his hand came in contact with her face in a slap that echoed throughout the room. Renee let out a shriek of pain. One of the men behind her grabbed her by the hair, yanking her head up when she tried to look away. She tasted blood in her mouth, realizing that she had bitten the inside of her cheek. She tried to keep her composure, but she could feel the welt already forming on her face.

"You better start telling the truth!" Banks shouted in her face, "I don't have any patience! You and this Gunnery Sergeant, did you come alone on the planet?"

"Yes," Renee said, breathing heavily, trying to keep the tears from her eyes. Her cheek was burning and her scalp aching. She couldn't tell them about the others...

Banks just shook his head grimly. Renee watched him as he reached behind her, and in a split second she realized he was reaching for one of the confetti makers. She was struck across the face with it, a sickening sound filling the air. She was dazed instantly, seeing whit and slumping in her chair. However, her head was once again yanked up by one of the men behind her.

"You lying little bitch!" Banks snarled.

Renee's head felt like it was going to split apart, and the whole right side of her face was currently numb, she was barely aware of the blood dripping from the corner of her mouth. By the feel of things, her nose was bleeding, too. Somewhere in her dazed state, she wondered if him hitting her could knock her back into a coma...

Her eyes fluttered, she focused on his face. It doubled, blurred, and then cleared. _Think like John_, she thought. She willed herself to smile, then, a chuckle came from her throat.

"Of course we aren't alone," she spat.

"Who else is with you?" demanded Banks instantly.

"A squad of ODSTs." She neglected to mention John or Elsie. They'd find out about the Spartans soon enough. She wondered if they had arrived at the bunker yet.

"A marine travelling with a bunch of ODSTs?" Banks seemed sceptical.

"It's been odd pairings ever since the war ended," Renee mumbled, her head drooping slightly. The headache she currently had was unbelievable, "Not many left, and many of us grunts ended our tours since March."

"Tell me what you know about the last few months of the war," Banks seemed to momentarily calm down, "About what happened with the Covenant."

Renee chuckled again, feeling slightly delirious.

"I don't know," she said. As soon as the words left her mouth, she knew it wasn't the right answer. She braced herself, and Banks grabbed her by the shirt, and threw her on the floor. Since she was handcuffed to the chair, it came with her, landing partially on her as her body hit the concrete. She let out a gasp as the air was knocked from her lungs.

"Bullshit!" Banks exploded, barely giving her enough time to get her breath, before he viciously kicked her in the ribs, "You do know!" he kicked her again. Renee made a pitiful noise, feeling the instantaneous pains as at least one of her ribs were broken with the force. She coughed up blood. Was she going to die? She closed her eyes, thinking of John. John's face, it came to her, so perfectly. His handsome face, strong jaw, straight nose, thin lips, dark eyes... the scar right beneath his left eye. The way he looked when he smirked.

Renee felt herself being pulled up off the floor by her hair, but her body had blocked out all pain at this point. She heard Banks pull his gun from his belt, and seconds later felt it jammed into the back of her skull. He was yelling obscenities at her.

Her eyes fluttered open, and she looked at the door... watching suddenly as it swung open. Hoping to see John, she instead saw Scottie. She saw his expression when he saw her, then, she heard him yell at Banks.

"General!" he shouted.

For a moment, Banks didn't pay any attention, but Scottie raised his voice louder.

"GENERAL!"

Banks paused, glancing up to Scottie, who looked to be having a hard time controlling his facial expressions.

"The bunker has been breached, sir, we need to get you out of here..." the words flew out of his mouth at a panicky speed, "It's the..."

What happened next seemed to be in slow motion. There was the unmistakable sound of an assault rifle, and Scottie's body jerked forward, blood spurting out of several holes in his chest that hadn't been there before. His body slumped to the ground, and Renee watched as a large armor clad figure come into the room.

John.

He raised the assault rifle again, moving in lightning speed. One burst, two, three, and Renee heard the sounds of the Insurrectionists' bodies hitting the floor. Banks' body fell right beside her, and she could only stare at his face, wide eyes, with a bullet hole right between his eyes.

From outside the room, sounds of UNSC and Insurrectionist weapons being fired could be heard. Renee watched, dazed, as John approached her. He kneeled, and his large hand cupped her face. She stared into his mirrored visor, and saw a dishevelled, bruised and bloodied face looking back at her, realizing it was _her _reflection.

"I'm sorry," John told her, his voice deep and slightly muffled from within the helmet.

Next thing she was up in his arms and slung over his shoulder like a ragdoll. She felt her body protest, but she let herself grow limp, feeling her limbs sway as John left the room. Her eyes crossed over Scottie's dead body as John left, his blood pooling on the concrete floor. She wanted to feel emotion, but she could only feel numb, a shiver ran down her spine. First Troy, now Scottie, two brothers. She watched the both of them be killed. One of them had been killed by John.

John hadn't seemed to even hesitate when he entered the room and shot the four men. She'd watched him kill Covenant before, but, she'd just watch John kill _human beings_. He seemed to have as much remorse as he did when he'd been shooting aliens.

Gunfire could be heard as John made his way down the hallway with her, holding his assault rifle with one hand and keeping a hold of her with his other. Not a word was said. Renee jumped when she heard him shoot he assault rifle, and the sound of someone's body hitting the floor. She felt sick, the taste of blood in her mouth was overpowering. Her head was pounding. Her ribs aching. She felt herself beginning to lose consciousness.

"Stop killing," she muttered in a daze, lying her cheek against John's cold armor, "John... stop killing."

She didn't get to hear his reply, for everything went black.

**A/N: **Hope you enjoyed this one, as always. AB


	24. A Mission Failed

**Chapter 24 - A Mission Failed**

**September 18****th****, 2553 – Habitable Planet – Zeta Doradus System**

John sensed the moment Renee lost consciousness; he'd felt her grow limp against his shoulder. Concern immediately ebbed through him, although, he kept his composure, tightening his hold on her and tightening his finger around the trigger of his assault rifle he held in his spare hand. Adrenaline was still coursing through his body at full potential, filling his veins with it, making his heart pound wildly in his chest. He could hear it thudding intensely in his own ears as he made his way down the dingy corridors of the bunker.

A glance to his HUD confirmed his speculation that Renee, although unconscious, wasn't in any danger. However, he knew she wasn't _okay_. Although he didn't have the time or the clearance to assess her current injuries, he could guess that she had sustained a fair bit of damage. Just the thought of what those men had done to her made his pounding heart beat wilder, his adrenaline pump faster. He gritted his teeth, deciding mentally that the deaths he'd delivered to those men had been too humane, too merciful. Such a death, being shot, was too quick, even honorable. They hadn't even known what had hit them; they had been alive one moment, dead the next, and probably hadn't even enough time for their bodies to register the pain of a bullet piercing their skulls. John should have prolonged their deaths, made them suffer, made them feel pain so great that that alone would have drove them to the brink. Such men who caused such harm to someone, to a woman of all, weren't men, he decided. They were monsters, comparable to the heartless and sadistic ways of the Covenant aliens, who seemed to have taken a sick pleasure in causing pain to others.

John however, had heard the last words Renee had whispered to him before blacking out. Stop killing, she had said. Stop killing, John. He wished he could obey her; he wished he could live up to that one wish and not take any more lives. He knew that Renee had been quite familiar with killing aliens, but to kill another human being was probably something foreign to her. She had joined far enough in the war, where the Insurrectionists weren't a concern, the prime focus had been on the Covenant and protecting the Human colonies. She had watched him kill those men right in front of her, and it just dawned on John then what kind of an effect it must have had on her, to watch him kill humans, not aliens like she had been so used to seeing. But he had no choice, it was either kill, or be killed.

He mentally apologized to her. Glancing to his HUD, he saw that his motion tracker was a confetti mixture of red and yellow blips, the yellow outnumbering the red, the red dots, one by one, fading away. Elsie and his ODSTs were prevailing against the unsuspecting Insurrectionists. This invasion must have been quite a shock to them, they were clearly unprepared, and this was showing on his motion tracker. They were dropping like flies, and not a single yellow blip disappeared. His team was staying strong. John found himself impressed by the ODSTs, for the first time he was witnessing their potential worthiness. They were good.

He opened up a COM channel:

"I've got Renee, I'm heading toward the exit," he said, "Eliminate the threatening hostiles then pull back, and we will rendezvous outside of this bunker."

Several acknowledgement lights winked on his HUD. John heard the COM channel crackle, then a burst of gunfire, then Dutch's voice flood into his ears:

"We're just wrecking them, Chief," he said, "Not to worry."

"I've got Buck," Elsie's smooth voice came on next, "They had him locked up in a primitive cell. Wasn't a challenge for me to get him out."

"They seemed to be rather surprised by our visit," Mickey's COM channel crackled slightly, "But were they really dumb enough to expect that Gunny and Lil' Sarge were all alone?"

"Apparently so," Dutch remarked quickly, "But it's not like anyone who joins the Innies has much of a brain to begin with."

John turned off the COM channel – if it was one thing he noticed about the ODSTs was their inability to keep radio silence. The COM channels were only meant to be used when necessary, not for stating comments and opinions. Maybe he had just never been taught otherwise, or hadn't the opportunity to exercise its purposes otherwise, but John viewed their incessant radio chatter to be annoying, and it could be potentially distracting to them or to the others listening.

Up ahead, John saw two Innies come running out of an adjacent hallway. They seemed disoriented, their heads darting down one hallway and then the next, like an uncertain person coming to a busy intersection, looking for speeding cars. However, they spotted John, and instantly their expressions changed. They hadn't even the time to raise their weapons before John's assault rifle proved to be the end of them. Their sudden limp bodies, riddled with well placed bullets, hadn't even hit the ground and John was past them, making his way quickly towards the exit. This bunker was slightly confusing; everything seemed to appear the same, only slight differences could be noticed with a keen eye for detail. Luckily it was something John had, and he was quickly able to navigate back through the way he'd come in.

Checking his motion tracker as he was in the final stretch, John saw that it read no hostiles. All the red blips had gone, and the yellows, his team, were clumped together just ahead, waiting for him outside like he had instructed.

When he walked out of the bunker, his visor's polarity increased as he made the change from the dingy lighting out into the almost blinding white snow, which was falling now heavily, heavier than it had been just a short time ago when they had first breached the bunker.

The ODSTs, and Elsie stood patiently, weapons in hand, except for Buck, who was scrambling to get the last of his gear back on. Like Renee, John realized, they must have made him remove all of his battle gear as well. John spotted Renee's gear lying in the snow. Buck, who was adjusting the straps on his knee pads, stopped and looked up when he saw John emerge from within the bunker. His eyes darted from John's faceless visor to Renee, lying limp slung over his shoulder. Worrying about his kneepad was suddenly abandoned, as he shot to full height, approaching John as he discarded his assault rifle to the floor and adjusted Renee so he held her in his arms.

"Shit!" was Buck's remark, as the other ODSTs and Elsie crowded around John and Renee, "Look at her! What the fuck did they…" he trailed off, muttering, "Dammit, Lil Sarge, when I said don't tell them anything, I didn't mean…"

John looked down at Renee, understanding the concern that was visible on the other's faces. Renee, unconscious, was a sight for sore eyes. Her face was black and purple in several places, and swelled in others. Blood, most of it close to being dried, had trickled from both the corners of her mouth and nostrils.

Elsie, who had depolarized her visor, darted her gaze up to John, finding his eyes even through his helmet.

"It's a miracle she's alive. If we had come any later…"

"I know," John said curtly, hating to think of the fact, although he knew it was true. If he had been so much as one minute later, Renee probably would have been killed, and there wouldn't have been anything John could have done to bring her back. The General John had killed had had the gun to her head when he'd come in. She'd been close, _too_ close to having her life ending right there and then.

"I'm so sorry, John." Buck exhaled, seeming bewildered, "I said I'd protect her… but they locked me up… I… I had no idea that they were planning to treat her like that…"

"There's nothing to apologize for," John shook his head, his voice almost robotic in assuring him, "Don't blame yourself. Dutch, grab Renee's gear…"

"Right," Dutch snapped to, "It's cold out…"

"Put her boots and coat on," John ordered, "Don't worry about the armor pads; just make sure she doesn't get any colder."

"Here," Elsie helped Dutch, who was awkwardly juggling the armful of armor and uniform. She plucked Renee's boots and socks from the pile and within seconds had them slipped onto her feet. John muttered his thanks, while Dutch threw the uniform jacket around Renee's shoulders. Taking a closer glance at her face, he grimaced.

"The Pelican should be arriving soon, wouldn't you say?" Romeo spoke up, glancing up at the sky as the snow continued to fall silently around them, "Hope this weather doesn't interfere."

"We should start heading back to the rendezvous point," Elsie replied, tossing her head back to John to look for his approval, "I know our mission may not be finished here, but, Kilburn needs to see some medical attention."

John gave a curt nod of his head.

"Affirmative," he said. The weather seemed to be getting worse as each minute passed, the snow was almost causing a white-out, making it difficult for anyone to see a far distance in front of them. The trees, their branches weighed down by the snow, were only distinguishable by their dark brown bark, the rest of them covered in white.

The ODSTs and Elsie proceeded ahead of John, assuming the usual V-formation, although John's motion tracker didn't read anything for yards, he felt assured with that one fact, but all he needed to further his worry was to look down at Renee lying in his arms. Despite being hastily re-dressed, she looked cold, her face pale, her cheeks, where they weren't bruised or swollen, were flushed pink from the winter temperatures.

He felt regret every time he looked at her, John knew that he should have been there earlier, to have prevented any of this happening to her. John sensed Buck felt similar, as they slowly trudged through the deep snow, every once and a while the Gunnery Sergeant would give a concerned glance back over his shoulder at them.

John felt a slight stirring in his arms, and looked down to see Renee was coming to. She tossed her head slightly, her eyelids fluttering open. Squinting, she looked up to his visor, and when she spoke her voice surprisingly came out strong:

"John?"

Elsie and the ODSTs heard her speak, and for a moment, they all stopped to look back. However, before John could even ask her how she felt, Renee spoke again, her strength coming back to her more quickly than expected.

"Put me down," she said, and this further surprised everyone. It was the last thing John had expected for her to say. He looked down to her battered face, knowing of her obvious pain – pain that she wasn't showing. Her eyes searched blindly for his behind the mirrored visor as she repeated her words, "Put me down, I'll be fine."

John hesitated, but gingerly set her on her feet. He watched as she took one step forwards, stumbled, but didn't fall. He wasn't able to see, but the ODSTs and Elsie had a front row view to the extreme grimace of pain that crossed her features.

Renee spotted Dutch holding the remaining armor pieces to her uniform, and she extended her hands out to him, beckoning, "Here, give those to me, I'll put them back on." Near the end of her sentence, her voice croaked weakly, but she cleared her throat. Wiping at the dried blood on her chin, she then accepted the elbow pads Dutch handed to her first.

There was a silence as she struggled with the Velcro, even the movements of her arms visibly hurting her, but she succeeded in putting on the armored pads. Dutch handed her the kneepads next, but as she tried to bend over to put them on, there wasn't much of a surprise to see her overwhelmed. She dropped to her knees in the snow, a pitiful noise coming from her.

"Lil Sarge," Buck said, his voice stern, "Don't hurt yourself more than you have to, let the Chief carry you."

Keeping her head bowed, Renee shook her head. Her body heaved as she breathed; she spit a mouthful of blood into the snow. John came up behind her, but he hadn't even touched her shoulder when she shrugged him away.

"No," she raised her voice, "I can do this, don't wait for me," she waved them ahead impatiently, "Go!"

Elsie stared down at the Sergeant, silent with awe, surprised at her raw determination. She had seen marines, with wounds less serious then hers, be happy to be loaded onto a stretcher and evacuated to the nearest medical outlet, but here Renee was, determined to walk back to the LZ without any help from anyone. She wasn't sure whether this was just her being stubborn, or being strong. There was a faint line drawn between the two in such situations. When Elsie looked up to John, she saw he was standing motionless not far behind Renee, his assault rifle on his back and his arms slack by his sides. He looked a little lost, or maybe he was just as shocked as she was. Elsie knew him well enough that it hurt him to see Renee in pain, and to have just been rejected to help her – by Renee herself, must have been an unsuspecting gut-punch to him.

Buck turned, respecting Renee's wishes, gesturing his ODSTs ahead. They seemed uncertain, and a little hesitant, but continued on their way, retracing their tracks from earlier - which soon would fill up completely if this snow continued to fall. They needed to move and move quickly, get to the LZ and report the situation to the Captain and Lieutenant Lyons back on the frigate.

Elsie, who still stood rooted to the spot, looked down to Renee, who was trying her best to regain her strength to get to her feet, her hands turning red from the cold snow, then back up to John. She half expected him to open a private COM channel with her, but seconds ticked by and he didn't. The only form of communication she received from him was a barely noticeable nod of his head – telling her to go with the ODSTs. She returned his nod respectively, and turned on her heel and made her way off through the snow, her boots making slight crunching sounds in the surrounding silence.

John watched, feeling helpless, as Renee crawled her way to the nearest tree, and used the trunk of it to help pull herself to her feet. She wiped at her mouth again, and glanced back over her shoulder to see John still standing there, waiting for her. She didn't say anything, but took a few difficult steps forward, and John inched along behind her.

"I won't touch you, if that's what you wish," John's voice, low and serious, cut through Renee's ears, "But if you think I'm going ahead of you and letting you straggle along behind, you are crazy."

"Maybe I am," she agreed, limping along through the snow. Renee tried her best to stay in the footprints already made by the ODSTs and Elsie. She didn't sink as far and there was less risk of her stumbling and falling.

"Have you seen what you look like?"

"No, but I can conjure a good suspicion."

John didn't have anything else to say. He felt frustrated with her, but, when he thought about it, he always neglected help when he was injured. In the past thirty years, it had been rare for him to seek out medical attention. He'd walked on injured legs, punched with injured arms, fought with broken bones and tendons, pulled muscles and gaping wounds. It was because it was something he _had _to do. After years of fighting, most times there wasn't an option for him to get help, it was either lay there and die or move on and continue fighting. This option was most commonly known by Spartans, that choice was often an everyday thing. Fight or die, fight or die, fight or die. Many of his Spartans died fighting, that was the inevitable outcome of Reach. They chose to fight, but died trying. Renee's stubbornness reminded him something he used to see from his Spartans, even from himself. But it was different for her, and this is what he didn't understand. She had the option to receive help, she didn't have to walk with her injuries and deal with the pain caused by it. He could help her; he could make her trip back to the Pelican's LZ almost a painless affair, but she wanted to walk.

It was then and there, that John realized that one of the reasons why he had fallen for Renee so many years ago was because in a way – she reminded him of one of his own, like a Spartan. Of course, she didn't have the training, the agility, the strength, but it was her attitude that shone through, that and her luck. She didn't like to lose; she took on tough situations even when she knew the odds were against her. She was intelligent, quick-thinking, sharp-tongued and observant – when she wanted to be. There of course, was that part of her that couldn't be ironed out, her civilian upbringing and finding the comfort in home, in civilian activities. This upbringing made her succumb to emotions and thoughts that were normally divided and segregated from the job of being a soldier in the UNSC.

Realizing then he could relate to her, more so than he had originally thought, he gained new respect for her as a person and as a marine that day. What she was doing, she wanted to prove not just to herself, but to everyone else, that she was a worthy member of their team and that she could handle whatever happened to be fired her way.

So, John let her walk.

* * *

It was a relatively quiet ride back up to the frigate. Turns out when they had been picked up, the weather was just on the border of being too inclement for the Pelican to fly safely. Visibility, once below the clouds, was low, which made landing and taking off a slightly challenging task but their pilot was good and patient.

When they had gotten into the back hatch of the Pelican and took their seats, they were informed that a forming storm was visible from space and that their evacuation would have been mandatory if they had wanted to request more time on the ground.

Buck, who still felt clearly guilty for not being able to have prevented what had been done to Renee, had opened up the first aid kit in the Pelican and took the seat beside her, offering medical assistance to her swollen face. Renee at first refused, but when Buck taunted her with an instant-ice pack, she quietly accepted and seemed relieved to hold the ice to her bruised face for the ride up, but made it clear not long afterwards that would be the only medical help she would be willing to accept. After this declaration, she had given John a meaning stare, who sat silently across from her beside Elsie, with his helmet on his lap, making certain that he understood. He, in the past had been the overseer of her countless trips to the medical bay during 2535 in their time aboard the cruiser _Hercules_.

When they were safely in the docking bay of the _Midnight Sun_, conversation picked up, but only slightly, mostly amongst the ODSTs as they exited the Pelican. There was no need to report to the bridge, for they were greeted personally by Dare and Lyons upon their arrival.

John, Elsie and Buck, the leading ranks, were the first to snap to salutes and vocalize the proper greetings, where as Renee fell in line with the other ODSTs behind them. Mickey, who hadn't been able to express his concern, took this moment to quickly whisper to her, "You'll be okay, Lil Sarge?"

Renee nodded, removing the ice pack from her face as to not draw unnecessary attention to herself, but became suddenly conscious of her face. John had asked her whether she was aware how it looked, and she had said she could guess, but now, she wondered how bad it was. It probably looked worse than it felt.

"… only hostiles were found on the planet," Renee tuned back in and heard John informing Dare and Lyons, "In the area we searched, that is. We are uncertain if there could be other locations…" John was interrupted when he saw Dare look past him.

"Sergeant!" she exclaimed, pushing between Elsie and John, and instantly they knew she had spotted Renee.

Renee, upon being addressed, straightened and saluted Dare the best she could.

"Captain, ma'am?"

Dare approached her, a look of bewilderment crossing her features. For a moment, she seemed to struggle to think of something to say. She decided best not to remark on Renee's bruised and swollen face, figuring that the marine knew well enough what condition she was in. Instead, she opened her mouth to give an order, but Lyons bet her to it, coming up beside her:

"Get yourself to the medical bay immediately and have yourself seen to, Sergeant."

"It looks worse than it feels, sir," Renee was quick to oppose, "I assure you, I just need a bit of ice," she held up the ice pack and put it to her cheek for a desired effect, "I'll be fine."

"That was not a suggestion, Sergeant, that was an order!" Lyons snapped. He was less sympathetic looking than Dare, and Renee remembered he had been present when she had first rejoined the UNSC. He jerked his thumb back over his shoulder in the direction of the elevator, "Go."

Renee felt frustration welling up inside her, but she knew better than to object any further. Shamefully, she began limping her way to the elevator, and Lyons continued to speak as she went,

"There is a fine line between being strong and being stupid," he said, "Your face looks like a mashed plum! And you're limping… Christ, what even happened to you…" a pause, "Master Chief!"

"Sir," Renee heard John answer almost robotically.

"Accompany Sergeant Kilburn and make sure she gets where she needs to go."

Again, Renee heard John automatically bark a "Yes, sir". Then she heard the clunking sound of his boots on the floor plates as he started after her. Renee didn't bother looking over her shoulder. She heard Dare's softer voice issue orders to the others:

"The rest of you, get out of your gear and get a shower, you will be called to the bridge for a meeting in one hour to further discuss the outcomes of this mission."

The others could be heard replying in unison. John picked out Elsie's voice amongst the others, cool and collected, the others rowdy and happy to be rid of their gear and to be able to get cleaned up. John focused on falling in step with Renee, who slowly limped her way along.

They reached the elevator, and John did her a favor by pushing the button and once they were inside, indicating the right floor they wanted to be taken to. He half expected Renee to complain about the orders given to her by Lyons, but instead she was silent the whole elevator ride, holding the ice pack to her face, switching sides every so often.

It was not until they began walking down the hallway towards the medical bay did Renee speak. It wasn't a complaint, either, but an inquiry.

"A mashed plum?" she echoed what Lyons had told her earlier, "Is that really what my face looks like, huh?"

John let out a grunt, not wanting to comment. Her face did look horrible, but Lyons way of describing it wasn't something he'd agree with. However, Renee was searching for a reply and she stopped, clutching her side for a moment, turning to face him.

"John," she said, her voice growing softer, "Tell me the truth. How bad does it look?"

John studied her face. One of her eyes was almost swelled shut. The whole one side of her cheek and jaw was a colorful mix of purples and reds. Her lip was split, a little bit of caked blood was still on her chin and nose. He felt guilt, staring at her face. If only he had gotten there sooner, before they had a chance to do this to her.

"You still look beautiful to me, no matter what." John finally decided to say, but by the way Renee let out a sigh and shook her head, he realized it wasn't the reply she was looking for. He sighed, "Alright, Renee, what do you want me to tell you? Your right eye is almost swollen shut, if you aren't already aware. Your face is heavily bruised, your nose is bloody and your lip is split." He paused, his voice still monotone, "There, now you know."

"Well," Renee said thoughtfully, "It looks worse than it feels."

"It's a wonder your jaw isn't broken," John told her softly, stepping forward to gently touch the bruised side of her face. The only traces of a flinch was a quick blink of her eyes and the noticeable biting of her lip.

"I'm alive, though," she said, limping back out of his touch, "That's what matters."

They started down the hallway again, and John murmured his agreement.

"Yes, but, I wish I could have gotten there sooner… so…"

"But you didn't," Renee reached over and grabbed for John's hand, but decided instead to link her arm with his. Leaning on him slightly to ease her limping, she continued, "That's one thing you're bad at, John. Is letting yourself being dragged down by what you _could've_ done. You can't go back and undo things, so stop beating yourself up over it." Renee got a sudden flashback of the event, being held by her hair by the General and seeing Scottie come running into the room, only to be killed seconds later by John, blood splattering the walls. And seconds later, seeing the General dead beside her, a gaping hole in his skull, blood and brain matter everywhere. She closed her eyes, and shivered. John felt the grip on his arm tense, and he looked down to her just in time to catch her expression.

"What's wrong?" he asked quietly.

"Nothing, I…" she started, but stopped quickly, realizing denying the fact wouldn't solve anything. John could see right through her little fibs. She looked up to him, studying his face. His hair was slicked with sweat, his face shiny with it. His eyes were narrowed slightly, his mouth taught and lips pressed tightly together, waiting for the answer, waiting for the truth.

"It's just those men you killed in front of me," she admitted, her brow furrowing, "I guess I'm just used to seeing Covenant dying, not people, and the man you shot when you first came into the room…" She trailed off, deciding she'd said too much. She didn't want to burden John with it, but he was an intent listener and right on cue, said:

"Yes?"

"I just knew him, I knew him before he became an Innie, it just kind of shook me up a bit," she shrugged, trying to not let the memory of it bother her. First she had watched Troy die, but also had to watch his older brother killed, and what made it worse, was that it was John who had killed him.

"So?" John's reply was not what she was expecting. He was nonchalant about it, his voice gravelly, "It was either kill him, or let you die. Easy choice."

John was right, she realized. It was Scottie's choice to become an Insurrectionist, and it was just bad timing that he had happened to be in John's path, but she thought he wasn't all bad. Seeing her and being reminded of the past, of his brother, had seemed to awaken some sense in him, but Renee would never know for sure. He was dead now.

"I'm sorry you had to witness what you did," John brought her back from her thoughts, "But understand what situation you were in, what I was in. It was a split second decision. If I hadn't killed them, they would have…"

"Killed me, yes," Renee answered. She looked ahead, and saw the doors to the medical bay. She stopped, looking up to John, giving him the best smile her swollen face would allow, "I'll be alright from here, John. Thank you."

"Are you certain?" John questioned, "I can go in with you."

She shrugged, "I'm a big girl, John. I can afford to limp a few more feet by my own."

John seemed hesitant, but he nodded. She gave him another smile, and turned and limped her way towards the medical bay. John stood and watched her until she went inside, and the automatic doors closed behind her. He let out a sigh, admiring her newfound independence, but at the same time, a part of him was yearning to go in with her, just to be there to support her. But suppose she didn't need it. She seemed just fine by herself, he realized.

* * *

John went to the armory and was glad to be out of his armor. For his first time using it in the field, it had served him well, but the only thing on his mind was getting a shower. He felt sweaty and uncomfortable, even when back in standard uniform. Elsie had been there and gone, her armor lay in pieces on one of the long tables. The ODSTs, too, all their armor and helmets had been put away in their designated racks.

Next on the agenda was grabbing a quick shower, too quick to really enjoy, knowing he only had less than an hour before they would all be called to the bridge for the meeting – something that, the more he thought about the more anxious he grew. This meeting, John knew, would be discussing where they would go from here. Not a trace of Dr. Halsey or any of the Spartans had been found, and Buck had said that the Insurrectionists hadn't seen them, either. Not that they would have co-existed peacefully, anyway. Would they go back to the planet and search it again? Or perhaps search its surrounding moons, which also had been reported to be able to sustain life? But what if, even then, nothing was found? He didn't really want to think about it.

After the shower, John decided to head back towards the medical bay, to check up on Renee. He hadn't even turned the first corner in that direction, when he saw Renee had already left. She, however, was busy pushing herself along in a primitive wheelchair, moving at a fairly decent speed. When she saw him, however, she stopped, gesturing to herself:

"Doctor didn't want me walking more than I had to," she explained, "I'm not going to complain, it's a good bicep workout."

John let out a chuckle.

"What's the verdict?" he asked. She was wearing her battle uniform fatigues and the camo-green tank top. He could see outlines of bandages beneath her shirt. There was a bandage on her forehead and on one cheek. The bruises still looked grisly. He couldn't help but notice, now that she was seated in a wheelchair, how much her height had been reduced. Now, he really had to look down on her. He was half tempted to kneel down.

"I'll live," Renee shrugged, "I've got two fractured ribs. My face will be better over time. They gave me some painkillers, so right now things aren't that bad." She shook her head, and laughed in spite of herself, "Nothing new, though, is it? Me being injured, that is."

John shook his head.

"If they ever introduce a form of MJOLNIR armor compatible with marines, you'll be the first one signed up," he said simply, walking around behind her wheelchair, "Let me push you. You might not like to hear it, but relax."

When the time finally came around when they were called to the bridge, Renee and John were the last ones there. The ODSTs and Elsie were present already, in standard issue uniform, standing with their arms behind their backs. Dare and Lyons were waiting patiently, and when Renee and John arrived, they looked relieved. The ODSTs had a vocal reaction to seeing Renee, in the wheelchair, but alright.

"Hey, Lil Sarge!" Mickey laughed, he was the closest to her and he reached over to give her a gentle clap on the shoulder, "Good to see you're alright."

"Crespo," Dare spoke sharply, and fixed him with a glare for his out-of-place behavior, knowing those type of greetings were to be saved for anywhere else but the bridge when a meeting was scheduled. Mickey was quick to mutter an apology. Buck, who knew of Dare's attachment to protocol, met Renee's eyes and just gave her a smile and a nod.

John stepped around Renee's wheelchair and saluted Dare and Lyons, greeting them with a not really necessary: "Master Chief John-117 and Sergeant Kilburn reporting to the bridge as requested."

Dare gave him a calm nod.

"Thank you, Chief." She then acknowledged Renee, "You'll be alright?"

"I'm en route to recovery, yes, ma'am," Renee replied, smiling slightly. She gave her the best salute she could muster, for it still slightly hurt to move extensively.

"So," Dare spoke up, once again all business, "Buck, would you care to inform us on what happened down there, from your point of view."

"Certainly," Buck answered, not bothering with the 'ma'am' add-on. He realized a while ago that it just proved to be awkward since his ODSTs were well aware of his relationship with Veronica. He cleared his throat before beginning, "We arrived and it was already lightly snowing. We split up upon the Chief's dictation, I was with Sergeant Kilburn. We were, out of no-where, ambushed by what we soon realized to be Insurrectionists. They confiscated our weapons and our helmets, and marched us to their bunker. From there, they got us to remove all of our armor, strip down to our t-shirts and fatigues only, and then they put us into a holding cell, making it clear to us that they intended to interrogate us. I thought they were going to interrogate us together, but they decided to do it separately. When they took Kilburn first, I knew this wasn't going to be good. I had no idea they had hostile intentions of retrieving information until after the Spartans and the rest of my squad arrived and breached the bunker."

"John, you were a witness of these hostile intentions…" Dare said, looking past him onto Renee, "And you were subject to it."

"Yes," Renee and John answered at the same time, and they looked at each other. Renee decided to elaborate, "I wasn't sure what they were planning when they took me to the interrogation room. I suppose a lot of things were going through my mind, but they took me, sat me down and handcuffed me to the chair. Then this General and a couple of men with weapons came in and began the interrogation. They wanted answers to things that of course I didn't know, but they wouldn't believe me when I said I was uninformed, and that's how I gained these injuries. John came at the right moment though. Had he been even a second later I do think I wouldn't be sitting here right now, ma'am."

"Yes, well, you were good to keep your silence on both the things you knew and the things you didn't," Dare told her, "And we are certainly thankful that Master Chief reached you when he did."

"Now what about the purpose of this actual mission," Lyons spoke up, folding his arms on his chest, "Did you hear anything about these missing personnel we are meant to be searching for?"

"They said they hadn't seen any Spartans," Buck replied.

"And if our Spartans were on that planet," Elsie spoke up, "I doubt they would have existed peacefully with the rebels. In fact, there wouldn't have been any rebels when we got there, which leads me to believe that they aren't there."

"I do believe you are right," Cortana spoke up from her holographic panel, and Dare stepped aside so that the others could see her, "I'm now getting no significant life readings from anywhere on the planet."

John felt his adrenaline rising right on cue with this bad news, and he couldn't keep his silence.

"If they aren't there, where are they?" John demanded, "Cortana, what about the planet's orbiting moons-"

"Negative," Cortana's reply was instant, "There are even less life readings being received from their surfaces."

"Then what?" John asked, not willing this to be true. He took a step forward, "Are there other planets? There has to be."

"This planet is the only one capable of sustaining life in this solar system," she said in that A.I matter-of-fact way, "Besides Onyx, but of course, it's not here."

"We have to search more," John began to pace, "We only scoured a small surface of the planet. And we can search the rocks remaining from Onyx. They have to be here, I received the audio, it was Spartan-087, she was alive."

"That was a month ago," Romeo said quietly.

John turned on him almost instantly.

"No, she's not dead. She's alive. They're all alive. We just need to find them," he snapped, turning and looking to Dare and Lyons, "I'm not leaving until we find them."

"I admire your determination, Spartan, but we are only prepared to stay here a week at most, our provisions are equipped for a month, two at most. Keep in mind that we have all volunteered for this mission, and this mission was supposed to be a month. Scouring this entire solar system for your missing Spartans could take months, years. Not all of us are prepared to make such a sacrifice."

Bewilderment swept across John's features.

"So you just want to give up?" he asked, looking around at the solemn faces of the ODSTs, "is that it?" He looked to Elsie, "These are our Spartans, Elsie. You wouldn't leave them here."

"If they aren't on this planet, John, where are they?" she asked him plainly, "We could be searching for the dead."

"No," John snapped, shaking his head, "No."

He once again took to pacing, and everyone watched him, almost nervously, as the Spartan's blood was clearly beginning to boil. An angry Spartan was something no one in this room, besides Elsie, would be able to contend with.

"I'm not leaving this solar system until we find them," John turned to face them all, his voice like ice, "Although you are welcome to leave, because after what I've been through in the last years of the war, I'm used to going solo."

With that, he left the bridge, his expression portraying every bit of anger and frustration he was feeling. Although Renee called after him, there wasn't a single person in the room who dared to go after him.

"What's he going to do?" Mickey broke the silence, "Cruise around in an escape pod until it runs out of fuel?"

Everyone looked to Dare for an answer.

"We will stay here for another twenty four hours," She said, her voice quiet, "Search every bit of the planet that we can, but afterwards, we're going to head back to Earth. I'll let everyone know more later, you're all dismissed."

An intense muttering filled the room as the ODSTs, Elsie and Renee filed from the room. Elsie was the first to leave, walking briskly down the hallway as fast as her feet could carry her. A good guess would be that she was going to find John – something that Renee wasn't even willing to do. Renee knew John well enough to sense his anger, and she knew now that he was considerably angry, but she couldn't understand his unchangeable determination to find his Spartans. The evidence was right in front of him – they weren't here, but he wanted to search anyway. She wondered what exactly he planned to do, and her wonder soon turned to worry.

* * *

**A/N: **I highly apologize for this chapter taking so long! I had it mostly written weeks ago, but my laptop crashed, and I hadn't saved LOAS up to that point onto my thumb drive. For a while I was disappointed, knowing either I would have to wait until I got my laptop fixed or I'd have to write it again. I decided I've kept you waiting long enough and decided to write it all over. It's not the same as the first version was, but it is better in its own way. Once again I apologize for how long this took, but I hope it was worth the wait. Enjoy. – AB


	25. A Team Divided

**Chapter 25 – A Team Divided**

**September 19****th****, 2553 – UNSC **_**Midnight Sun,**_** Orbiting Habitable Planet – Zeta Doradus System – 01:30 hours**

It was early in the morning of the next day, and although the team was scheduled to be back topside within several hours, they still sat awake in the cafeteria. The ODSTs and Renee were the only ones present. Renee was still making use of her wheelchair, and she had it positioned at the head of the table. She was holding Brute on her lap, and was content to pet him while he purred. She had read once that cats had the ability to reduce stress, but wasn't sure how true that was. She knew that patting Brute was helping her feel slightly calmer. Everyone kept mostly silent, even Mickey and Dutch, who usually had a comment to make about something or another. It had very little variation, the ODSTs sat at the table, either with their elbows upon it or their hands propping up their heads. For the most part, they kept their eyes downcast, or every once and a while, someone would look to the closest cafeteria exit, where voices could be heard floating down the hallway into the room. A sharp female voice, and a deeper thundering male voice – could be traced back to their owners, Elsie and John. Occasionally, a thud or crash could be heard when their voices weren't battling each other.

The two Spartans were arguing, and had been for a couple of hours now. Their voices raised and lowered, sometimes when their words would be distinguishable, Renee and the ODST got to hear a taste of their argument. It was Elsie trying to convince John out of acting on his own, but John kept refusing.

"I don't know how much clearer I have to put it!" Elsie's voice grew clear, and the ODSTs expressions altered at being able to hear them again, "John, they're my team too, they're my Spartans too! But I'm not going to go searching for them when clearly they aren't here!"

"Don't give me that!" John's voice was louder and intimidating, "They have to be here somewhere! They _are_ here somewhere, stop trying to convince me that they're not! I guess you don't have any faith in our Spartans or Dr. Halsey!"

Another crash could be heard, and Renee closed her eyes, wondering what exactly was being thrown around or knocked to the ground. Were they fighting perhaps, John and Elsie? She'd seen them play fight, how easily they'd tossed each other about. Maybe they were doing this now. A part of her wanted to go, find them and get them to stop fighting, but another part of her was telling her to stay right here with Brute and the ODSTs.

"I was MIA!" it was John again, his voice almost screaming, "I was MIA, and what if no one had come searching for me? What if they had just thought me dead and hadn't even bothered? I'd still be in a cryotube on an uninhabited colony off in god knows where!"

"That situation was different! The facts are right in front of our face! The life readings, they're not picking up enough for anything down there to be our Spartans! Don't you get it!"

Their voices lowered again into an indistinguishable roar, Elsie's voice, despite being more feminine, proved to be just as strong as John's. She was on his back like a hungry wolf would be a deer, drilling the truth into his head over and over again, and yet John always refused.

"Christ, how long are they going to scream at each other?" Romeo muttered, his voice sounding tired, "The Chief is one stubborn son of a bitch."

Buck shook his head, leaning back in his chair with a sigh, glancing around the grim faces of his team. Most of them looked tired, and he knew that he probably didn't appear far off. But it was obvious that no one could try to sleep, not only because of the racket, but knowing that the two super-soldiers were possibly close to ripping each other apart just down the hallway.

"There's a difference between being optimistic and being just ignorant," Dutch was the next to speak, "I don't get it, Elsie's been spitting nothing at him but the facts, but he keeps denying it. Those missing Spartans obviously aren't here…"

"I thought Spartans were meant to reserve their emotions," Mickey raised his eyebrows, "Apparently that's not the case tonight." He looked to Renee, who still was calmly patting Brute, "Out of all of us, you're the one that knows John the best. Isn't there something you can do to calm him down?"

Renee shrugged,

"I'm not sure if I could, because like all of you, I don't agree with John's wanting to go on a wild goose chase. I understand that those missing are members of his team, his fellow Spartans, but I think searching blindly for them is useless. I think John would expect me to sympathize with him…"

"But you don't," Buck said, rubbing his face tiredly, "Neither do any of us," jokingly, he smirked and said, "What if we all just decided to scream on the count of three 'shut up'? Then maybe they'd stop."

"Elsie's fighting a battle she can't win," Dutch shook his head, "She should just give up and leave him alone. At this rate, we'll be serenaded with their screaming right through breakfast."

Buck let out a sigh.

"Alright, I want to go to sleep. Somebody's got to tell them to pipe down," he declared, "I'm thinking of a number between one and twenty. Whoever's the closest has to do the job, fair?"

"Fair," they agreed.

Buck pointed to Rookie. He held up three fingers. Dutch said fifteen. Mickey twenty. Romeo nine. Renee said seven. There was a moment's silence, where Buck didn't do anything except look at each one of them individually, but finally he sighed, with a smirk, and looked to the end of the table.

"Lil Sarge," he said, "I was thinking six. You said seven."

Renee exhaled, and handed Brute over to Mickey, the cat seemed reluctant to leave her lap and let out a little meow of disapproval. She paused for a moment, to listen to the argument that had once again become distinguishable.

"… You're going to risk it all just to…"

"Apparently you're not willing to!"

"Damn it, that's not the point…"

Renee exchanged glances with the ODSTs, and pushed her wheelchair back from the table, and got to her feet, something they weren't expecting. She momentarily grimaced, but headed towards the door, her limping only faintly impairing her stride. As she left, she heard whispers of encouragement from the ODSTs. She paused in the doorway, and looked over her shoulder. Rookie gave her thumbs up, and from Buck she received a solemn nod. It only gave her slight encouragement.

Just outside in the hallway, Renee saw John and Elsie standing just outside one of the entrances to a storage room. A storage box or two was misplaced in the hallway; those were probably the source of the crashes heard. John and Elsie were animated with their hands as they continued to argue, oblivious at the moment to her presence. Elsie, besides being slightly shorter and smaller in stature next to John, didn't seem to be at all intimidated by him. At the moment, her finger was pointed right at his chest, her face was fairly close to his and she was grossing him out using the same reasons she'd repeated many times already.

The two Spartans were so absorbed in their argument, Renee was able to approach them and get fairly close without them even noticing.

"Guys!" Renee said, but at first, she was ignored and drowned out. Impatiently, she raised her voice, "Guys!" They still didn't hear her. Renee, clenching her fists in irritation, took a deep breath and then screamed in her most authoritative voice:

"STOP IT!"

This got their attention. John and Elsie both whipped around to look down at Renee, and when they saw who had mustered the yell, faint surprise crossed their features. Elsie's usually electric blue eyes seemed even bluer, her cheeks were flushed from anger, but John had no color in his. His eyes were black tiny slits and veins were sticking out in his neck. For a moment, the two Spartans just looked down at Renee in silence.

"Calm down, the both of you," Renee told them, her voice level and firm, "This is enough, we're a team. We aren't meant to be arguing. Elsie, your point has been made. Now it just needs to be understood," she met John's eyes sternly, then looked back to Elsie, "This argument's over. Get some rest."

"You're right," Elsie apologized, but she looked to Renee only, "I'm sorry." She looked truthful, although there was something in her eyes that Renee couldn't quite distinguish. Before leaving, she fixed John with a glare, shaking her head ever so subtly. Not another word was said by her, she walked off down the hallway towards her room without a sound.

It was finally finished or so Renee hoped. When she turned back to John however, he reminded her of a statue. He stood unmoving, large and intimidating, with an angry face. His expression, although not extreme, could be read as easily as reading a book. She knew most of his expressions now, and what was meant by a raised brow, or a slight frown, narrowed eyes or a twitch of his nose. Now, when she took in his features, she saw every trait of agitation visible. His eyebrows were furrowed just enough that they seemed to form two thick dark lines over his eyes, covering them slightly in shadow. His eyes were narrowed and black, his mouth was a straight, firm line – but had a strained look to it as if he was using all of his strength to keep it that way. His face lacked any color, it was pale and his scars were noticeable in this light. It was no wonder that Renee felt slightly intimidated when she met his gaze.

"Whose side are you on?" John asked, his voice coming out low, gravelly and authoritative. It had an underlying tone that put just enough anger in as well, "Are you with everybody else, who wants to go back without completing the very objective of our mission?"

"I'm not getting into this…"

"Answer me."

"John, you're just upset. You need to calm down and think things over…" Renee tried to reason with him, knowing that he would be against her just as much as Elsie if he knew that she was looking at the logical side of this. The life readings told them no one was on the planet or its orbiting moons. What humans had been on the planet had been killed by their team.

Without warning, John's hand shot out and clamped around Renee's arm in a vice-like grip. With a jerk, he pulled her closer to him, leaning down to her face. Renee froze, realizing that this John could be instantly to blame on his PTSD and lack of the required pills, but she knew this John was the dangerous kind, and at the moment, he had her in a grip she couldn't get out of.

For several long seconds, John just looked into her eyes, breathing fairly loud, not saying a word. The expression on his face was dark; his eyebrows seemed to crumple impossibly more over his eyes.

"There is nothing to think over," when he finally spoke, his voice was almost a growl, "I am going to search this system until I find my Spartans and Dr. Halsey. When we go back to Earth, I'll get permission from headquarters and come back here by myself, if I have to, if there is no one willing to accompany me. Like I said, I'm used to being alone."

"You're acting irrational. Think about what you're saying for a moment; think about what you want to do. What about me?" Renee asked quietly, knowing this question would get him thinking. At least, it was what she hoped. She hoped that John would remember her and their home and Amy and Wayne and Troy and not want to return to this system. It was unfortunate that his Spartans weren't here, but it was the truth and John was denying it. If he went back he'd be searching blindly, searching pointlessly - an entire solar system light-years large, for his missing Spartans that he didn't even know for sure were alive. He was going on the static message from Kelly that had been received over a month ago now. A lot could have happened in a month. She felt frustrated with him, didn't he understand that?

After a long beat, John finally decided to answer her, but it was not what Renee expected to hear from him:

"What about you?" It was almost casual, like for a moment he had forgotten what she was to him.

"Do you honestly have to ask?" Renee demanded, bewilderment creeping up on her, "What about me? Well, you just wouldn't leave me again, would you? I mean, I just got you back! You said that we'd complete this mission and then we could go back to our normal life, isn't that what you want?"

John let her go suddenly, as if she was something scalding. He looked at her as if she'd betrayed him. A strange smirk came onto his face, and surprisingly, he let out a low chuckle that was sincere, deep from within him.

"Our normal life?" he echoed her almost mockingly, "Normal? Define for me what that means." It was a rhetorical question, "My normal and your normal are two entirely different things. My normal, it is this. It's being a Spartan in the UNSC. Fighting, completing whatever missions are assigned to me. Your normal is civilian life, this whole being a soldier is a job to you. It's what you chose to do, but it's not your normal like it is mine. My life has been this ever since I was six years old. My normal is not your normal; your normal is not mine…"

"What are you saying, John?" Renee asked, feeling dumbstruck.

"Let me live my normal. You mentioned going back to our normal life. This is my normal life, it's all I've known," John said, "You gave me love, and that was a bonus, but a bonus only. I can't fool anyone, I can't fool myself. I'm not a civilian. I never have been. That casual life, that civilian life…" John let out a deep sigh, "It was boring! It bored me! You don't know how many times I had lain awake wishing I could have a gun in my hands, to be back in my armor. At first, when the war was over, I thought I could adapt, I thought I could come and live with you like a normal man and be content with that, but I soon realized how much I missed what I thought I grew to hate. Don't get me wrong, I love you, I always have, but just as much as I feel I need to be with you, I feel I need to be with the UNSC…"

Renee struggled with her upcoming words, trying to let John's sink in. When they did, they hit her like a tidal wave, the force of them almost staggering. So, John's intentions were clear. Even if this mission had been completed, or if it even would be, John wasn't planning on coming back with her to live a normal life. He wasn't planning on handing in his ranks and retiring. He was planning to stay! Even after all he had been through, even after she'd comforted him as he suffered from memories of the war and all that he had been witness to, horrifying images of death and destruction. He was a soldier of thirty plus years, a war hero, with every medal pinned on him except for the prisoner of war, with her to love him and friends to accept him. He had a place waiting for him in normal society, people who cared for him – something many others didn't have. Yet he wanted to stay in the UNSC! He still wanted to be Master Chief, he didn't want to retire. For a moment Renee was overwhelmed with disbelief, but one single thought came into her mind and she said it:

"You can't have both." She said plainly, staring into John's eyes. She watched his expression change, he blinked, and she continued with what she felt was like a confessional, "I came here on this mission because I didn't want to be alone. I didn't want you to leave me. I thought this would be simple, we would find your missing Spartans and we would come home in a month just like you said. But now, it's getting complicated again, just like it always does. We never had simplicity in our lives; things always seemed to come in between us. But the war is over now. Simplicity is right in front of you, your life with me. But your life, _our _life can't be simple as long as you are Master Chief. You have to learn to leave him behind! I see where this is going; I understand what you want to say. This all adds up to one thing, doesn't it, John?" she paused, "You don't want to retire! You're back in again and you have no intentions now of returning with me, do you? It's like your addiction, it's like a drug! You left for a little while, but just a little taste and you're back stuck like glue!"

John looked at her for a long time, registering her words. He felt frustrated, first it was Elsie, but now it was Renee after him, for an entirely different subject, none the less! What did she understand? She couldn't understand him, John knew, no matter how much he could explain it to her what it meant to him being here in the UNSC, he knew she wouldn't understand. She couldn't, because she wasn't a Spartan. Civilian blood ran strong in her veins and she had been brought up in a life of simplicities, she had not been taken from her parents and had a gun put her hands at the age of six. She wasn't a Spartan. The qualities she had that John had been admiring just a while ago, the qualities he thought they shared, he realized they didn't come into play now. Now, he and Renee couldn't have been any more different. The line between them now was clear. She was a marine. He was a Spartan.

"You can't understand," John spoke, keeping his voice level despite his pent up anger within, "Even if I told you, so just respect my decisions. I'm going to find my missing Spartans and Dr. Halsey. I'm not coming back until I do. I'm a Spartan, you can't take that out of me. A Spartan has no purpose in civilian life."

"I'm not a good enough reason to lead such a life?" Renee asked, "Because I see no point in you staying in the UNSC when there is no war to fight. Your job is done."

"My job is never done," John replied curtly, "And if you were true to your rank and true to this, your job as a marine would never be, either."

"Oh, don't you get it!" she suddenly demanded, raising her voice, "If you leave me, I can't promise you I'll be waiting for you when you come back! Eighteen years of my life have already been wasted; I want to do something with my life, John! I'd love to be able to share it with you, but I can't do that when you aren't here, don't you get that? You just can't expect me to wait around, to put my life on hold just for you!"

"No of course not, I wouldn't ask you to do such a selfless thing for me," John said calmly, a calm that Renee found more and more irritating by each second, for his words, despite being spoken in such a nonchalant manner, had an underlying power. Perhaps the power of his anger that she knew he was holding in. There was a pause as John thought for a moment, expression from his face disappearing, "Though, I never knew you had such detest towards the very thing you signed up to do. Being a marine isn't a part-time job. My original expectation; my original thought was that you would accompany me. I had no idea you were so eager to return."

"I had no idea this was going to be such an endeavor! You made it all sound very convincing that we would find your missing Spartans and return within the month, and all would be fine and that we could go back to what we were starting."

"I said no such thing. I said that this mission, if all went according to plan – which obviously it is not – that it should be over in a month at the latest," John told her matter-of-factly. He studied Renee's face; the swelling had gone down and allowed her more freedom of facial movement when it came to showing adequate expression. The expression she now so feverishly carried was one of frustration. He could sense he was angering her. John knew that if he allowed her such privilege to punch him, she probably would. He felt equal frustration back, however. He knew that she didn't sympathize with his decision to continue the search, she went with everyone else. Why everyone found his loyalty so hard to comprehend, he had no idea.

"I just don't get this!" Renee cried desperately, "John, just the way you're talking to me! It's like I'm nothing but a mere acquaintance to you! Stop being so cold, stop being so…"

"The only thing I am asking of you is to step into my shoes," he was quick to snap, "Though of course; I know even if you tried, your opinion would remain unaltered because you are not a Spartan."

"No, I'm not a Spartan! Of course I'm not a Spartan!" Renee took to shouting, clenching her fists, "And if that difference is suddenly such an inconvenience to you, I apologize! I don't know what more you expect of me, John! If you are aware of my inability to fully understand your circumstances, then I don't know why you are talking to me as if you expect I should!"

She whipped around and hurried off, her pace exaggerating her limp. Renee didn't look back; she could feel her face flushed with anger and frustration. She half-expected for John to call after her, but she heard nothing.

When she came back into the cafeteria, all the ODSTs looked to her with amazement, as if they were surprised she was still alive. The second thing they noticed however was her expression. She looked border-line on tears, tears that she was so desperately trying to hold back. As she limped over and dropped into her wheelchair, there was momentary silence, but it didn't last long.

"How did it go?" Buck questioned almost cautiously, "You succeeded in shutting them up, so at least that objective was completed."

"I don't understand him," Renee declared, her voice a higher pitch than usual, due to her struggling to keep her composure, "I really don't. I thought I did, but, I don't."

"He's still intending to go off by himself?" Dutch asked.

Renee nodded, running her fingers through her hair and letting out a sigh. She wanted to tell them more, but she wasn't sure how much she could get away with saying before she would lose her control. The last thing she wanted to do was cry in front of them.

"Well, it's his decision," Mickey shrugged. Brute, pleased that Renee had returned, leaped off his lap and onto Renee's. She let out a little sigh, but patted the cat, forcing a little smile to come to her face.

"Let's call it a night," Buck announced, pushing back his chair and getting to his feet "We'll be up early tomorrow for a more thorough search. I'll talk to Veronica; get the details on what exactly she wants us to do. I know we're just sticking around for John's sake. She probably will tell us to help John search the planet, but of course, we won't find anything," Buck headed for the door, muttering, "What we do for that goddamned Spartan. 'Night troopers, 'night Lil Sarge."

Everyone returned the goodnights as they got to their feet. Renee handed Brute back to Mickey. There was a faint buzz of chatter as they left the cafeteria, but soon grew silent as one-by-one, they filed off into their rooms for the night. As they each bid each other goodnight, John appeared, walking down the hallway. As he passed the ODSTs, not a single one of them said anything to him. He almost looked expectant to hear something, but no one even acknowledged him. Lastly, John fixed his eyes onto Renee, who was punching in the code to get into her room. She didn't even meet his eyes and wheeled into her room. As John started forward, his idea to speak to her was abandoned when he heard the little beep as she locked the door behind her.

* * *

Next morning's events were fairly silent. Everyone was fairly overtired, so as everyone ate breakfast, and then reported to the armory to get geared up, not much was said. There was a noticeable division of the team. The ODSTs, Elsie and Renee sat at the usual table, but John arrived and took his tray to a table in the far back. At first, the ODSTs and Renee had expected Elsie to do the same, but she made it clear she wanted nothing to do with John after last night's events. She seemed alright, but no one said much to her in fear of setting her off. Elsie commented politely on Renee's face, which didn't look nearly as bad as it had the day before. The swelling had almost gone completely, but the bruising remained, but not as severe as it had been.

One of the main inquiries from the ODSTs was the issue of Renee's impairment. Although she had come to breakfast walking, there was a wonder if she would be allowed to accompany them on the continued ground search.

"I don't care what anyone says," was Renee's answer when Buck finally asked her about it, "I'm a Sergeant and I'm not going to waste my time coming here to just sit it out 'cause of a few wounds. I feel alright, I may limp a little but I guarantee there is no hindrance to my overall performance. I'm going with you guys."

To that, Buck told her that it was Veronica and Lieutenant Lyons who would get the final say, but he said that he didn't believe there would be a personal briefing by them. The orders were clear on the loudspeaker this morning upon their wakeup call, they would have the day on the ground to search as much as they could, then would be picked up and from there they would re-enter Slipspace for their trip home.

Renee had only given John a couple of glances. His decision to sit alone said enough to the team this morning, but it was also because John knew he probably wouldn't be very welcome, anyway. There wasn't a single person aboard that agreed with his insane idea to return and search the entire solar system for the missing personnel. There was no one in the UNSC that important, or worth the risk, but apparently they were worth just that to John.

* * *

Within the hour, everyone was formed up in the docking bay in their full battle gear. John, in his MJOLNIR armor, stood a distance away from the others, waiting for them to get organized. The pilot of the Pelican looked half asleep when he finally hurried into the docking bay. He gave John a quick salute as he ran to fire up the bird.

"The mission is clear, correct?" John turned to the others, his authoritative voice plain as day. He looked large and intimidating as he stood holding his assault rifle, "We search."

Everyone ran past him to the Pelican, and still, not a word was spoken to him. John disapproved of Renee, who limped along last behind Rookie, coming with them. She was unaware of the extent of her injuries and spending the day searching on foot wasn't what she needed. He felt guilty from last night, the memory of her locking the door in his face still vivid. And the words she had last spoken to him as well, she had proved him wrong. His expectations for her were indeed beyond what she was capable of; her understanding could only go so far. He wondered how long this silence, this division between him and the rest of the team would last. Communication would probably pick up once they were on the ground, but only for necessary purposes.

John battled a sudden wave of doubt. The life readings were there, Cortana wouldn't make a mistake. Life readings that weren't big enough to be human activity. What little human activity there had been, they had been killed yesterday. One of the orders Dare had given them, well, orders that John would make applicable to the ODSTs and Renee, was to complete a thorough search of the Insurrectionist bunker for any useful information. Maybe that information could help lead him in the right direction. John just couldn't accept that his Spartans, the Spartan III's and Dr. Halsey were dead. He couldn't understand why Elsie would be so quick to give up on them. It seemed she and the others couldn't think past what was right in front of them. There was an entire solar system to search, and John decided mentally right then and there, no matter who was against him and his decision, Renee included, that he would not stop until he had found them – dead or alive.

* * *

The storm of the previous day had swept over the area, and when the Pelican couldn't land due to the depth of the snow, it was the first sign that this search mission would not go over well. There was a four foot jump from the back hatch of the Pelican into snow that cracked and crunched when any amount of weight was put on it. The top layer of snow was almost a frozen crust, and underneath it was nothing but a light floury powder, which made walking difficult. Elsie had to aid Renee in the jump, so she wouldn't hurt herself more. As the team piled out of the Pelican, John, who had been the first out, stood back several feet, knee deep in snow watching them without a word. When anyone breathed, their breath came out in dissipating clouds. John's and Elsie's breaths came out through the ventilation in their helmets, a humanoid quality to otherwise robotic looking figures.

"You follow through with the orders to search the bunker," John said simply, "I'll be on COM channel two if you wish to reach me." He didn't wait for any confirming replies or winks from acknowledgement lights. He turned his back and headed off through the snow, breaking into a sort of run accompanied with several Spartan-sized leaps. Despite his weight, he hardly made a sound as he disappeared off into the snow-laden forest.

"The bunker it is then," Buck announced, taking an awkward step in the deep snow, "Elsie, lead the way, you'll find it quicker than we will."

"Do you find it cold?" Elsie asked calmly, starting off in a certain direction, and the ODSTs and Renee were quick to follow. There were mixed replies and several curses about the winter weather and the snow.

"I wish some Covenant would come running out of nowhere or something," Dutch announced, and this comment made the entire team turn to look at him with "are-you-crazy" stares. Defensively, he said, "Well at least it would provide us with some 'tainment. Searching a bunker filled with the dead bodies of the guys we killed yesterday isn't exactly what I had planned."

Upon the mention of the bodies, Renee instantly thought of Scottie. Just the idea of seeing him dead again made her feel sick. She just hoped she wouldn't be required to go anywhere near that room where he lay.

"Well, if you'd rather walk through this shit and help John in his… search…" Elsie replied in monotone, "I'm sure he wouldn't mind. This wasn't in any of our plans, trooper. This whole mission is a disaster."

"How can the Chief be that stupid?" Romeo demanded all of a sudden, "Some of your Spartans are missing too, right?"

"Yes."

"Then, if you don't think they're here, then why is Chief so determined?"

"I _know_ they aren't here," Elsie glanced back over her shoulder at them, "And John does too. He's just too proud to admit it."

"Then why the hell are we here?" Mickey said, "Why the hell are we walking through this shit! We're wasting our time! Do the Captain and the LT know this is a friggin' wild goose chase?"

"Yes, they're fully aware of the situation," she replied, "These extra hours on the ground have been given to John to help make him realize and accept the truth. We won't find anything here. The fact that our Spartans are nowhere to be found, it just has to sink in. I've accepted it already, maybe call me cold-hearted but I've watched too many of my Spartan III's die to think that this mission will be any different. You see, this is meant to be classified information but I doubt anyone gives two shits anymore: when a Spartan is killed, they aren't listed as KIA. They are listed as MIA, to provide a false sense of security, to give the illusion that Spartans never die. These Spartans we've come here to look for, are currently listed as MIA. Very rare is it for a Spartan to be listed as MIA and actually be MIA."

"So we're searching for a buncha dead Spartans, fantastic!" Dutch sighed irritably.

"That's not what I said," Elsie snapped, "We do not know for sure if they are dead or not. But, we do know that if they are alive, we haven't got a single clue where they are. All we know is the radio signal received from Spartan-087 came from this system."

"What a crock of shit!" Dutch looked to Buck, "Why the hell did you sign us up for this bullshit, Gunny? We didn't have to volunteer to search for any goddamn Spartans!"

"Calm down," Buck, who had remained level-headed and quiet throughout this entire conversation, still remained calm, "We've got maybe another twelve hours on the ground, and then we're heading back for Earth." He clapped Dutch on the shoulder, "Hang in there. We'll be home before you know it."

"So what exactly are we supposed to be looking for?" Mickey inquired as they walked into the bunker, down the hallways with Elsie leading the way. She walked cautiously, slowly, on alert with her battle rifle held out in front of her.

"Valuable information to take back to ONI," She answered after a beat, "That means search all computers, data pads, data chips, papers, anything you can find. Information on the Insurrectionists, information on their plans, their weapons, their locations, anything that you think is important."

"Should be a time," Dutch remarked.

"Don't complain, just shut up and search," Buck told him, "Split up team."

Renee was quick to wander off in the direction furthest away from the room in which Scottie and the other men lay dead. She didn't want to go back to that time or place; she was haunted enough by it as it is. This was the last place she expected to return to, especially not even twenty four hours after the incident that had occurred here.

Looking back over her shoulder, she saw Rookie was following her, silent as usual. She gave him a nod, thankful for his presence. She didn't feel as uncomfortable knowing that she wasn't going to be searching this section of the dingy bunker by herself. However, she knew she'd feel even better if she was able to talk, and she knew Rookie wasn't the best person to have when that was your intention. But he had talked to her before, so she knew she had a chance at trying.

"This place is eerie," she remarked, sidestepping a dead body of an Insurrectionist, lying face down on the concrete floor. A glance over her shoulder barely caught Rookie's response, a quick nod of agreement. So, he isn't going to talk as easily as I figured, she thought, feeling slightly disappointed. She decided to ask him a question that couldn't be answered by a nod or a shake of the head.

"What do you think we will find?"

She glanced back over her shoulder again, and saw Rookie just shrugged. She let out a sigh, and was about to give up, but he spoke, his voice scratchy sounding.

"I'm surprised you came with us," he said.

Surprised at his comment, Renee raised a brow.

"I'm better than I was yesterday," she told him, "It's just my face that gives the illusion, and it makes me look worse than I am."

Rookie studied her thoughtfully for a moment, but nodded. That was it for her conversation with him, for Renee didn't feel like pressing him. If he truly wanted to say something, she had learned, he would say it - to her, anyway. She hadn't heard him talk around the other ODSTs, and by the way they acted around him, they hadn't heard him speak either.

A couple of times, Elsie or one of the other ODSTs came over the COM channel to announce what they found. A data chip, a few papers containing names, places. If it would be useful to them, however, it was unclear. Despite this information being shared, not a word was heard over the COM channel from John, not even a static crackle.

As they continued in their search of the bunker, it was more of the same. A few papers, a data chip, a few files. Nothing big or at least nothing that anyone realized. Time wore on, until finally the bunker had been searched in its entirety and had only given them a little information. It was clear that even this part of the mission was a waste of time. They rendezvoused outside the bunker, and Elsie got a hold of Dare and told her of what they had found – which wasn't much. Dare didn't inquire on John's findings, for she knew, along with everyone else what he would find. Nothing.

"You've only got a few more hours on the ground," Dare had told them, "Then we'll be headed home. It's not that far away, just bear with it." There was brief radio silence as Dare tried to contact John, but he didn't reply, even after repeated attempts.

"Elsie, why isn't he answering?"

"He just did, ma'am. Acknowledgement light," Elsie replied grimly, seeing it flash on her HUD. John was in the silent mode, he didn't want to talk to anyone. Elsie heard Dare sigh, but then she signed off with a crackle.

"That Spartan has finally lost it," Dutch remarked, rubbing his arms as they stood in the deep snow outside the bunker, "I don't know about you guys, but I really don't feel like freezing my ass off here just so that he can search his heart out, can't they send the Pelican for us now, and pick him up later?"

"Stop complaining," Elsie snapped immediately, her voice as icy as the environment, "Our orders are to stay here. We will. Brave the weather, it isn't that cold. We'll search, but stay in a group. Spread out only by fifty meters apart."

"Search for what?" Romeo muttered.

Despite the heavy negativity that weighed upon the team, they trudged through the snow and braved the weather for the next twelve hours, until their noses were frost burnt and the cold seeped through their gloves and numbed their hands. The snow fell off and on, mockingly, it was like they were stuck in a dream. A dream, where they were at John's bidding, searching for people that weren't there. At the end of it, no one was searching. Chattering teeth could be heard on more than one occasion. Their eyes were just locked on the snow as they walked, one step after another like automatons, the snow crunching beneath their feet, minds on things like hot showers and steaming cups of coffee. Renee's limp got worse, but she didn't utter a word about it. Elsie, warm in her armor, marched on effortlessly, her sympathy for the others shivering in battle gear was felt, but not expressed. At the moment, there wasn't a member of the team that wasn't cursing John's stubbornness and the winter weather.

And throughout the entire time, not a word was heard from John. It was like he wasn't even there, like he had disappeared. It was hard to believe that a team, that had, not hours ago had been united, was now split apart over the very mission they'd been sent to complete.

**A/N: **Not much is to be said really about this chapter. At least I got it finished in a fair amount of time. As always I hope you enjoy it. - AB


	26. Out of the Blue

**A/N:** Happy New Year, everyone! I want to apologize, firstly. It has been so long since I last updated. I had writer's block, but I don't feel justified blaming all this time of inactivity on that. I should've updated a long time ago. To be truthful, this chapter has been a little over half completed for a good couple months. For a while I was unsure how to actually write some of the events that happen, as it is on that touchy line between what is canon and what can be creative freedom. I would like to give thanks to a couple friends of mine (you know who you are!), who helped me figure out how to go about writing some of this. I don't think I could've done it as well without their helpful ideas. Anyways, another apology, and be thankful I was graced with a great amount of creativity in the last moments of 2010 to get motivated and finish this. I hope you enjoy the chapter!

**Chapter 26 – Out of the Blue**

**September 19****th****, 2553 – UNSC **_**Midnight Sun **_**- Zeta Doradus System**

Nothing was found on the planet.

It was the result that was inevitable, and everyone except for John had an easy time accepting that fact. To them, it was a relief when the Pelican finally came and rescued them from the frigid conditions. John had been the last to arrive at the LZ, he'd come calmly stalking out of the woods, weapon in hand, looking much like a robot instead of a human. His silence was kept long after they had returned to the ship and proceeded to put away their armor and weapons and began to get ready for the Slipspace jump home – something that, once again, everyone but him was looking forward to. The ODSTs were almost rowdy with relief. A couple of them hurried off to grab a hot shower. Renee, who had battled pain for the past several hours, was relieved to momentarily take a seat on one of the ammo boxes. Due to her momentary need to rest, she was the last one to remain in the armory besides John and the technicians.

Keeping her head down but eyes cast upwards, she watched in silence as the technicians helped John out of his armor. It was a rather complex process, she realized, not having really taken the time to notice it before. John had difficulty when it came to doing the job himself.

She felt momentarily embarrassed as, almost with stupidity, she forgot that John wore no clothes under the armor and caught a glimpse of him naked before he calmly grabbed his folded uniform off the table and proceeded to get dressed right then and there. Being naked was something that didn't faze John at all, even with the technicians there, for there was nothing for him to be ashamed of or embarrassed of. His way of viewing it, Renee guessed, was that he was human and what he had differed none from that of any other human males, although of course the shape his body was in could be envied by most. His age had no impact on his healthy and perfectly-sculpted physique.

In this brief moment, Renee had forgotten the current situation she and John were in. She barely noticed the technicians leave, and it wasn't until she caught John's eyes as he was shrugging on his shirt that she remembered their argument the previous night before and the fact that they hadn't spoken since then.

John kept the gaze, surprisingly not looking away. Renee, though tempted to do so herself, kept her eyes locked with his as he pulled his shirt down and gave it a tug to straighten it. His face portrayed nothing, and for a moment he turned, and she thought he was going to leave the armory, but he paused and met her eyes again.

"It hurts, doesn't it?" he asked, his voice deep, however not monotone like it had been the last time she had heard him speak. It took her a moment to register what he meant. Not wanting to admit it, she shook her head.

John's eyes momentarily flashed an emotion she couldn't identify.

"If you were so certain we would find nothing," he said, "I wonder why you put yourself through the search. Twelve hours on foot, you're feeling most wonderful now, I'm certain."

"Alright, it hurts, John. It hurts like hell!" Renee snapped, getting irritated at his almost mocking comment, "Happy now?"

John walked around the table between them, on which his disassembled MJOLNIR armor lay. He dragged his finger along the edge of the table, and then drummed his fingers on the top of his helmet. Glancing down into the mirrored visor, he looked thoughtful as he paused there. He looked up again, meeting Renee's eyes. He was now closer to her, perhaps two feet away, and he calmly leaned back against the table, folding his arms on his chest, causing his biceps to appear more noticeable. It had been a while since Renee had studied him, it seemed, and she found herself almost disbelieving of his muscles as if it were the first time she laid eyes on him.

"Seeing you in pain makes me anything but happy," John answered finally, narrowing his eyes.

"Hypocrite," she spat back at him venomously, "I was in pain last night, and you didn't bat an eye."

"You, of all people," John remained unaffected by the harshness of her reply, "Should be well aware by now that not often do I express what I'm feeling."

"You used to," Renee told him, "And now I'm losing you again, you're crawling back into that hole I worked so hard to get you out of. I sometimes wonder if you care about me at all; do you think about me?"

"Don't ask such a stupid question, especially when you know very well you know the answer."

"If you care about me, you would stop talking to me like I'm just someone you command, and talk to me like I actually mean something to you," she was quick with her retorts, "You haven't kissed me since… since…" she paused, realizing how long it had been, "Since you went into cryo weeks ago."

She knew bewilderment was on her face, and she looked up to John's face, which still carried little to no expression. A part of her expected him to get up, grab her and give her the kiss she wanted, but seconds went by and he didn't move.

"We're… falling apart… aren't we?" she whispered, staring at him.

John stared right back. The only movement from him was his Adam's apple as he swallowed. He blinked, but nothing else.

Renee was suddenly overtaken with panic, the full force of the realization hitting her like a ton of bricks.

She jumped to her feet, and flung herself at him. Reaching up and wrapping her arms around his neck, she yanked his face down so that she could quickly press her lips to his. The kiss for a moment, was like nothing was wrong, but she quickly realized it was one-sided. Instantly, she felt John tense up and his hands clamp onto her shoulders. Breaking the kiss, John pushed her back.

"A kiss won't save us," he said simply, "It won't change anything."

"What are you talking about?" Renee demanded, letting out a nervous chuckle. She reached up, stoking his face with one hand and fingering the collar of his shirt with the other, pressing her body close to his, "You're just upset, John. We can go back to your room, we can talk, we can make things better…" She looked into his eyes in panicky self-assurance, "Right?" She smiled again, "This is just a little fight, we'll get over it, like we always do, right?"

John stared down at her, numb to her attempts at intimacy and appearing deaf to her words. Renee felt a cold chill run down her spine.

"Say it!" she pleaded, shaking her head in disbelief, "Say it, say we'll be okay…"

A wave of expression came across John's face all at once. It was one of pity, of regret, of pain.

"I don't know how that will be possible."

"Do you want me to come with you?" Renee demanded, "Is that it? I'll come with you!"

There wasn't a chance for John to answer, when all of a sudden, Lyon's voice came over the loudspeaker:

"_All personnel to battle stations, I repeat, all personnel to battle stations."_

Argument instantly forgotten, John let out a curse, and Renee stared at him for a moment, her face losing all color. The alarms went off on the walls, flashing their amber hues. She was taken back in time, not having heard such an order in eighteen years. She was momentarily frozen on the spot, until John gave her a shove.

"Get going!"

"What's going on?"

"I don't know! Just go! I'll be there in a few minutes," John shouted, waving her forward, "GO!"

Renee, still in her battle uniform, snatched up a nearby assault rifle and forced herself to bolt from the room, her mind on overdrive. She tried to think of reasons for this sudden announcement. There hadn't been anything on the planet, they had eliminated all known Insurrectionist hostiles. What was going on? Certainly it wasn't a drill! They were ready to jump into Slipspace to head back to Earth… there wasn't meant to be any conflicts…

* * *

On the bridge, Lyons, Dare and Cortana were staring at the holographic screen displaying the current problem. Things had been fine, Cortana had just been preparing the adequate coordinates for a Slipspace jump, when she had picked up a surprising amount of hostiles. They weren't human, and they weren't Covenant, either.

Dare and Lyons were staring in awe at the screen, which displayed thousands upon thousands of little machines, robots, floating in the dead black of space. They were clustered together, and apparently the ship had gotten too close, for, they were all turned in the _Midnight Sun's _direction.

"What are those things, Cortana?" Dare demanded.

"I've seen them before," Cortana remained calm, "John too. They are of Forerunner origin, called Sentinels. They were made by the Forerunners to protect Forerunner constructs and to exterminate the Flood, but what they would be doing here in the middle of space, and in such great number…. Wait… ah yes… of course, these coordinates, are where Onyx once existed. Onyx must have contained Forerunner constructs of some sort, but the planet is gone, they still must feel the need to guard this place."

"Will they attack us?" Lyons asked, knowing that by now, everyone aboard was in battle stations as he had ordered, and was probably wondering what the hell as going on.

"Not if we don't engage," Cortana replied, "Engaging to them, however, would be moving any closer. It would not be good if we did. I'm engaging reverse thrusters now…"

"Wait, no," Dare interrupted, "Just stop the engines…"

"Aye aye," Cortana replied, "We are at a safe enough distance, and they shouldn't provide any kind of threat…"

"What threat do they pose to us?" Lyons asked, "More importantly, what threat do we pose to them?"

"They are programmed to protect this area from any intruders," Cortana said matter-of-factly, "UNSC, Covenant, Insurrectionists, Flood, it doesn't matter to them who or what. Clearly, Lieutenant, we are, first of all, outnumbered about three thousand to one if they decided to attack. Second of all, each one of those Sentinels is equipped with a Sentinel beam, capable of vaporizing pretty much anything they would like. Even if we were to engage them with our MAC cannons, there are enough of them to do enough damage to our ship to cripple us. Now you understand my eagerness to stay away, but of course, orders, Captain?"

Dare didn't get a chance to answer, for the doors to the bridge hissed open, and John, dressed in his MJOLNIR armor, with his helmet slung under his arm, hurried in.

"What's happening?" he demanded, but no one needed to answer him, for he saw and recognized the Sentinels on the screen almost instantly, and looked bewildered, "Sentinels? What are they doing there?"

"They're protecting Onyx," Cortana filled him in, "Or, where it used to be."

John walked closer to the screen, setting his helmet on the nearest table. Leaning forward and staring at the scene, the bridge was silent for a moment.

"This is the reason for the orders to assume battle positions?" he asked finally, not looking away from the screen, "Whoever stopped the ship just saved us. Battle positions or no, if we had moved any closer to them we would be in hell of a situation. I haven't seen so many of them in one place before."

"Knowledge of the danger they pose to us has been explained," Cortana told him, "I wouldn't have let this ship get any closer even if they ordered me to."

"Good, Cortana," John replied, "Revoke the orders given to stand by battle stations."

There was a strange air in the bridge, despite Lyons and Dare being higher ranks than John; it seemed that he was the one in charge. Out of them all, he and the AI were the most experienced, and respect was given towards them both. John didn't have to ask for respect, it was automatically felt by anyone.

Cortana did as John asked.

"Was there much confusion among the team?" Veronica asked John.

"I can only assume, ma'am," he answered, glancing back to her, "I came directly from the armory to here, so I didn't run into any of the ODSTs."

"So," Lyons let out a sigh, staring at the holographic screen, "Now what? Avoid those floating robots, and…"

"Follow through with our original intentions," Dare finished, "Calculate the adequate Slipspace coordinates and begin our journey back to Earth," she stole a glance in John's direction. He had been looking at her, but turned his head at the mention of Earth, staring a hole down at the control panel in front of him, not saying a word.

"… Yes Captain," Cortana replied, "Calculating coordinates as asked. Should just take a moment to open the void…"

Dare, feeling slightly guilty, exchanged glances with Lyons, who just shook his head and shrugged. John leaned onto the control panel, as one of the screens showed the white Slipspace void appearing in space. He glanced up, and saw the Sentinels begin to stir at this notion. The whole ship began to shake, and the white light enveloped the screen.

"Something's not… right…" Cortana was heard saying, and then the ship let out a loud groan, and shook violently. John, Dare, and Lyons, without warning, were thrown to the floor. John quickly recovered from the fall, jumping back to his feet in a second, as Lyons and Dare were slower. The ship stopped shaking, and the screen before him was not portraying a typical image of Slipspace. Instead, he found himself staring at terrestrial features below. Water, grass, trees, clouds, and a _sun._

Behind him, he heard Dare and Lyons remark on the same thing.

"Cortana…" Dare began, "What…"

"Calculating…" Cortana said quickly, "Our coordinates are the same, we are in Slipspace, or at least, we should be… it appears we are in some sort of… world… within Slipspace. Not a planet, but…"

She trailed off, looking to John, who walked closer to the screen, as close as he could get. He was staring a hole into it, it seemed, his eyes wide and mouth slightly hanging open. Without looking away, he asked Cortana:

"Check life readings."

There was silence as Cortana did as he asked, a dead, eerie silence.

"John…" she began after a moment.

"Yes?" he said instantly, still not looking away.

"I'm detecting life readings – life readings large enough to be human, in fact, much similar to the readings originally found on the planet we searched before…"

John suddenly whipped around, snatching his helmet up and hurried for the door. Excitement could be heard in his voice – something foreign to all in the bridge - as he shouted over his shoulder as he left the bridge:

"They're here!" sounds of his heavy footsteps clunking down the hallway, "I know it!"

* * *

The ODSTs, Elsie, and Renee were heading towards the exit of the docking bay, still dressed in battle gear, weapons slung lazily over their shoulders and some held their helmets under their arms. Confusion as to the absurd orders of reporting to battle stations, then being told that it wasn't necessary was plentiful. Elsie was the most cautious of the bunch, where as the rest of them had dropped their guard and were discussing the possibilities of the freak orders.

"What exactly is going on up there in the bridge, anyway?" Mickey was complaining, "Makin' us go to battle stations… then tell us never mind, go back to what we were doing?"

"Maybe they thought we needed a jumpstart," Dutch suggested with a bemused chuckle, swinging his assault rifle back to rest on his shoulder, hitting his armor plating with a clunk.

"Make sure you go question Dare, Gunny," Romeo told Buck for the second time, "Let us know what the hell that was all about…"

"Yeah, yeah," Buck was quick to snap, "Planning on it. Anyone see Chief? His battle station is the same as ours, isn't it?"

"He told me he would be with us soon," Renee spoke up, the first time in a while. Her heart was still in her throat, despite the orders being recalled, "He would have had to get his armor on."

Ahead of them, they heard sudden footsteps – hurried footsteps. And by the loud clunking sounds, Renee and Elsie were the first to realize who was approaching the docking bay. John – fully clad in his armor by the sound of things.

"Who the hell…" Dutch started, turning to look in the direction of the noise.

Just that instant, John whipped around the corner of the doorway, in a rush. Renee – surprised to see him like this, went to speak, but John, his helmet slung under one arm, and his assault rifle on his back, spoke, his voice loud – and containing something she hadn't heard in weeks – excitement:

"Don't go back to the armory! We've got a new mission! To the Pelican!" He continued past the group, not waiting for any questions.

"Explain please?" Buck spoke up, sounding irritated.

John halted quickly, whipping around to face them, his cheeks colored. He must have run the whole way here. His expressions were uncontrolled, and surprisingly he smiled loosely, baring his teeth. He glanced to Elsie in particular:

"We just tried to enter Slipspace to head home, but looks like we unintentionally jumped into some sort of shield world," He let out a chuckle, "Life readings detected. Our Spartans! Dr. Halsey! We've found them!"

An array of comments came from the ODSTs, but Elsie and Renee remained speechless. After the initial shock and several curses of surprise were yelled, the sudden guilt washed over those who had thought John was crazy. They all had cursed John's decision to search the planet, and cursed his stubbornness, but now, he had proved them all wrong, and that the missing Spartans and Dr. Halsey would be found.

Renee looked to John's face, searching for any signs of a mocking "I-told-you-so" expression, but all she could see was happiness. Absolute happiness. At that moment, she felt like the most horrible person, for having assumed he was wrong and searching for nothing, but he had known they would be found. She should have never have doubted his instincts, she knew John had seen many things in his thirty year career, things that wouldn't even make sense to some even if he tried his best to explain them clearly. Nothing fazed John now, for he had seen and experienced pretty much anything the universe could throw at him, in all its gigantic mystery. She felt stupid, absolutely stupid – and felt compelled to apologize.

She watched, as Elsie said nothing, but stepped forward with outstretched arms and the two Spartans hugged – something that was rare to be seen. No words were spoken but their relief could almost be heard in the silence that now fell throughout the docking bay.

The ODSTs exchanged glances of disbelief, but the same idea was going through every one of their heads: this meant the mission was complete. All they had to do was pick up the Doctor and the Spartans, and then they could go home. Go into cryo for the two weeks of Slipspace if they wanted, then arrive back at Earth and it would be over.

Renee sensed the others looking at her out of the corner of her eye, but she didn't move, she just stood there, watching John and Elsie. She watched as John clapped Elsie on the back, said something unintelligible in Elsie's ear, then his eyes met Renee's – and she froze, but was unable to look away. She knew she was wearing the guilt on her face, plain as day and John would have no trouble deciphering it.

There was a slight softening of his features, barely detectable, but she picked it up. Giving him a tiny smile, knowing it looked forced, Renee left it at that and dropped her gaze, acting as if looking at her feet was an interesting pastime.

"What are we waiting for?" John spoke up, all professional as Elsie stepped from his arms and headed towards the Pelican. He waved the ODSTs and Renee towards him, "Let's go."

"Don't bother calling the pilot," Elsie called from the Pelican, jumping in, "I got this."

John observed the team as they followed his orders. Elsie fired up the Pelican's thrusters and opened the back hatch. One by one, the ODSTs leaped in the back. Several excited comments could be heard from them, along the lines of the excitement felt towards the fact that this mission was close to being over. Renee dawdled along behind, and instead of jumping in back of the Pelican along with everyone else, she took a detour and walked the extra few steps to the side where John stood. She met his eyes.

"I'm sorry," she said, straightening her posture. She hadn't forgotten their discussion in the armory, she couldn't. The fear that she may have lost John was fresh in her mind, but she met his eyes with no fear. Lifting her chin ever so slightly, she gave John a crisp salute, "I should have never doubted you, sir. I was completely in the wrong."

John didn't reply verbally, but she watched his expression soften with her words. He gave her one simple nod and jerked his head toward the Pelican – a response that would have been given to someone he hardly knew.

Pretending not to be hurt by this, Renee turned and headed for the back hatch of the Pelican. As she grabbed onto Buck's hand as he helped her make the leap in, she heard John's voice say her name, but from within her helmet – a private COM channel. This caused her to pause. There was another crackle, and then John said:

"You don't need to be sorry."

Renee glanced back over her shoulder for a brief second as she completed the jump into the Pelican and took her seat beside Mickey. Keeping her eyes downcast as she fastened her seatbelt and laid her assault rifle across her lap, the conversation amongst the ODSTs proceeded without her. As John gracefully leapt into the Pelican, Dutch shot a question at him.

"What exactly is this place we've found?"

John, not pausing as he walked past them towards the cockpit, answered:

"A kind of shield world, located within a Slipspace bubble."

"The fuck?" Romeo remarked, "And I thought we'd seen everything."

Buck let out a chuckle, whereas John just looked over his shoulder at Romeo. He had been ecstatic when he had run into the docking bay, but now the Spartan was once again in control of his emotions.

"Romeo?" John asked.

"Yes, sir?"

"You haven't seen anything." There was something wryly cynical in his voice. From the cockpit, Elsie let out a little laugh.

"Listen to the Chief," Mickey piped in almost instantly as Romeo raised a disbelieving eyebrow, "He's seen more shit than you can shake a stick at."

"I wasn't about to argue," Romeo shrugged.

In the cockpit, Elsie radioed to the docking bay technicians that they were all clear and ready for the hatch below them to be opened. She glanced back over her shoulder to the team, the ODSTs in particular:

"Ready to drop?" she asked.

The ODSTs let out a cheer, and everyone made sure they were buckled in, and John, who wasn't sitting, firmly grasped onto one of the hand grips on the bulkhead. Without much warning, the hatch opened and the Pelican dropped like a dead weight. A second or two of weightlessness; Renee felt her stomach lurch. Dutch let out a holler, free-falling something he and the other ODSTs weren't a stranger to.

Just on cue, Elsie engaged the main thrusters and the Pelican shot forward. A second later, she could be heard exclaiming from the cockpit:

"Check this out."

Seconds later, the back hatch fell lazily open, and everyone peered out into what was the mysterious Shield world. John, who was standing close enough to the edge as it was, stepped even precariously closer, almost leaning out to see the place that his fellow Spartans had been trapped in for over a year.

What everyone saw surprised them. For the most part, there was nothing irregular about this shield world. They saw a blue sky, the _Midnight Sun _growing smaller above them as they approached the ground. Below them, there was a habitable atmosphere. Forests spanning miles, green grass, and snow capped mountains looming in the distance. Snaking rivers, glistening in the bright sunlight, and far off, what looked to be an ocean. There were valleys, rock cliffs, fields. Then, the structures came into view; structures, foreign to all aboard except for John and Elsie. To see them for the first time conjured awe in even the most experienced. Although as alien as they appeared, once you saw them once you could not mistake them if you were to see them again. Structures of the Forerunners, architecture not relatable to any known human civilization. Even the smallest of the structures were a shockingly original concept, mysterious in both their appearance and origin.

This Shield World had been created by the Forerunners, John was able to easily figure out. And for it to be hidden so well, and guarded even more by that large number of Sentinels, no one accidental was supposed to be here, but now, here they were. And, his Spartans were here somewhere, and they had been here for almost a year, trapped with no way out.

"What is this?" John heard Buck exclaim, "It's like a planet, but in a Slipspace bubble…"

"Hard to get your mind around!" Mickey agreed, "There's a sun and everything, look. And all the trees, and the water. I don't feel any pity for those people trapped here! It's just like Earth."

"Look at those structures…" Romeo pointed out, "I haven't seen anything like them before. But yeah, the idea of all of this, in a Slipspace bubble. It's not a planet… it's just a… void in space."

"Wow," Renee whispered, leaning slightly towards the open hatch. However, she had memories of the time she'd fallen out of a Pelican, when John had jumped out and risked his life to save hers. They had fallen nearly two hundred feet, but he had saved her, not without sustaining injuries himself. Renee made sure her seatbelt was tight. She had no intentions of falling out of a Pelican again.

So this is where the missing Spartans were. But where exactly? Perhaps they had already spotted the _Midnight Sun _and realized that someone had finally come to rescue them. However, John had one thing on his mind. Would they be able to get out again? It had been easy to get into the Slipspace bubble, but technically, it had been an accident. Maybe this place he was looking at right now was the place that he had just trapped himself and his team in as well.

It couldn't be that hard to get out, he thought, there _had _to be a way.

"John," Elsie came through a private COM channel with him, "Do you think we could try contacting our Spartans through our headsets yet? If they don't know we're here already?"

"It's worth a try," he replied back, "You try radioing your III's. I'll radio my II's."

"Got it."

John went to a separate COM channel, and set the frequency to as high as it would go – covering miles of this Shield World. Adjusting the channel, he quickly removed the ODSTs and Renee from those who could receive his message, and finally Elsie, based on his decision. He figured he wouldn't need to speak any words to get whoever was on the ground to realize their presence here.

Licking his lips to moisten them, John replayed the tune in his head before whistling it: _Oly Oly Oxen Free_. The Spartan II whistle. If any of his Spartans were down there, they would immediately realize it was another Spartan.

After whistling it, and listening to a couple seconds of static, John spoke:

"This is Master Chief Petty Officer John-117, can anyone read me, over?"

* * *

Frederic-104 found himself leaning against the wall of the Forerunner construct. The building they'd adopted as their base in this hellish world. The structure, massive in its entirety had many winding passageways, large rooms of intricate design and several elements of Forerunner technology coursing through it. The building, he and his Spartans had once found so unfamiliar, as Dr. Halsey had searched her way around it in awe, enjoying the immersion in so much Forerunner culture. The idea of a lost civilization such as this completely had her mesmerized, and even now, she couldn't help but try deciphering everything around her. She had that withered notebook and a pen still with her and had gone around for the past year (is that how long it had been? Fred wasn't sure), examining everything Forerunner she could find and making hasty scribbles or detailed sketches in her notebook.

This attitude Halsey obtained – this near obsession with the world that they were trapped in, couldn't be shared by any of the Spartans, only that it had made them one step closer to finding a way out of this world. This Forerunner construct contained the "main control center" of this entire Shield World, and for months Dr. Halsey busied herself – sometimes going without sleep, water or food – trying to decipher the control panel – a holographic panel filled with unique symbols. Very quickly, upon the detonation of Onyx and their retreat into the Shield World, Dr. Halsey and the Spartans realized what they had gotten themselves into. The only entrance into the Shield World had been destroyed, and they obtained nothing capable of Slipspace travel – that they knew of – that they could try to get out of this. Dr. Halsey already had known the sciences of a Dyson Sphere, it was a bubble in a Slipspace void, and since it had been created by the Forerunners, she had nearly gone mad with the idea of finding out a way to deactivate this Shield World, to make it accessible from the outside.

One day, in her frustration, Dr. Halsey had put both of her hands onto the holographic panel, with an exclamation of: "Why can't I figure this out?" Only to watch as the holographic symbols seemed to rearrange themselves upon the detection of her hands. She had gone to pull her hands back, but Kelly had nearly shouted at her to keep her hands on the panel. Halsey's Spartans had crowded around the panel, to watch as each of the unique symbols seemed to position themselves at the tip of each of Halsey's fingers. The holographic panel had changed several colors. Then, Linda-058 had shouted from the doorway: "Come quick!"

"Keep your hands on the panel, Doctor!" Kelly had instructed, as she and Fred had bolted outside, to see the sky of the Shield World shimmering. Directly above them, the shimmering began to fade and dwindle away, dropping towards the horizon. They had watched in awe, realizing that Dr. Halsey had done something, and had done something right. They had rushed back inside, informed her of what happened, and happily, Dr. Halsey had removed her shaking hands from the panel, a small smile on her face. Their hopes had gone up since then. Kelly, for a while, was almost high on the thought of that they could now be found, and for a while she had spent as much time alongside Dr. Halsey at the holographic panels, figuring out what exactly could be done with the controls.

One of the hopes had been, that they could unfreeze the Spartan III's, the remaining members of Team Katana, from the Forerunner-like cryo-tubes they had been put in, but Linda had been against the idea although there was no doubt unfreezing them wouldn't be a problem. A simple, smaller holographic panel, in the center of the room the tubes were in, was no doubt the controls, but Linda didn't believe in unfreezing them, not until they knew for sure they would get out of here.

"They're better off than we are," Linda had once said grimly, "Who knows how long we will be here. We are cut off from the outside world, we don't even know if the war has ended."

All of the Spartans knew subconsciously that the reason they were trapped here was because of Dr. Halsey. Most importantly, that weighed on Kelly, who was slowly losing her fight. It was noticeable, Fred had noticed, and when he mentioned it to Linda, she had agreed but said they all were.

Ever since Kelly had attempted to use the Forerunner technology to send a S.O.S message out into space, her morale had dropped. She at first had been ecstatic when she had managed – or thought she had managed to send a message, but within hours she began to doubt her success and, within a day or two, and given up on the thought that anyone had heard them.

"We're accessible, but have no way to communicate!" Kelly was to be heard saying for the longest time, "No way out of here."

Since then, Kelly became much of a lone wolf. She always offered to be the one to collect water and food. The Spartans, already trained to live off the environment if necessary, found it easy to live. They soon determined what was edible and what wasn't, they found food similar to that of earth. Fruits and root vegetables, even something close to a tree nut. They gave the best to Dr. Halsey though, the Spartans could survive much longer without food than she could, and Dr. Halsey always looked so frail nowadays, anyhow. Her arms were bony; her stature small, her hair now completely grey. She had fight in her, the Spartans knew, but she had the appearance that she may collapse any second.

Kelly almost always gathered the food and water now. She spent a lot of time outside, or around other Forerunner constructs nearby, exploring – or so she said, but Fred and Linda knew that she was moping, she was depressed. She wanted to be left alone.

Fred knew that's where she was right now. Outside somewhere, perhaps running. More than once he had seen a streak go past outside, a streak that was Kelly, running her full speed. That was her way she got rid of her energy and her frustration. She ran.

"She must have run thousands of miles by now," Fred spoke up to Linda, who was sitting across the room, watching over Dr. Halsey, who had fallen asleep on the floor beside her, her book clutched in her hand.

"Hm?" Linda's head jerked up. She must have been dozing off herself, Fred realized.

"Kelly," Fred repeated, "She's always off running now."

"Mhm," Linda nodded contemplatively, "I can't blame her, really. There isn't much else for us to do. I'm envious of those Spartan III's, they're in a peaceful sleep. They don't have to put up with this endless waiting, and for what? A miracle that someone may find us, that Kelly's message actually went through and someone picked it up."

"We have to hope," he answered, taking out his knife and running his armored finger along the blade, "It's the only thing we have to go on, and to give up on it, it wouldn't make sense."

"It's just so difficult sometimes," Linda sighed.

All of a sudden, their COM-channels crackled. Kelly? There were a few moments of silence, and then Fred and Linda heard the eerie, whistle of a tune that they hadn't heard in what seemed forever. It almost sounded haunting as it came through their headsets: _Oly Oly Oxen Free_.

Linda's eyes locked with Fred's. For a moment, neither of them moved, neither of them even dared to breathe. Kelly had never used this to communicate, she never bothered. All formalities they had long since dropped.

The two Spartans listened to static once more, hissing. Then, a crackle, then a voice come through. A voice, for a moment, they thought they were imagining.

"This is Master Chief Petty Officer John-117, can anyone read me, over."

"My god," Fred heard Linda whisper.

Then, a deafening, ecstatic screaming coming through their headsets. Kelly.

"WERE HERE! JOHN! MY GOD, WERE HERE! DOWN HERE!"

Fred and Linda didn't need to communicate. Linda awoke Dr. Halsey, shaking her roughly, and without giving her much time, she pulled her to her feet, and bolted outside. Fred led the way, hearing Kelly still screaming, now not only through the headsets.

"What's going on?" Dr. Halsey asked, surprisingly quick to wipe off her sleepiness and tried her best to run along the grass behind the Spartans. Linda had her hand grasped in hers. Fred, for the first time, couldn't control the laughter that came from him.

"It's John, Dr. Halsey! John's come for us!"

Ahead, they saw Kelly standing in the middle of a clearing, jumping and waving her arms, staring up at the sky. She was screaming and laughing. Tearing her helmet off her head, she tossed it aside onto the grass and continued to wave. Fred, Linda and Dr. Halsey reached the clearing, and craned their necks. Above them, they saw a descending UNSC Pelican, and farther above, a UNSC frigate.

"They've come!" Linda exclaimed. Dr. Halsey just wordlessly dropped to her knees, staring up at the Pelican with a smile on her face. Kelly, nearly reduced to tears, something Fred was amazed by, accepted a bear hug from her. She was laughing uncontrollably.

The day they'd been all waiting for, the day they were unsure if it would ever happen. It finally had come.


	27. The Lost and The Found

**Chapter 27: The Lost and The Found**

**September 19****th****, 2553 – Shield World, Zeta Doradus System**

As they were nearing the ground, everyone in the Pelican heard a female screaming, and John instantly leaned precariously forward on the very edge of the hatch, looking down. There, in a clearing, jumping and waving her arms, a figure wearing the older version of MJOLNIR armor. It was Kelly. She had nearly deafened him when she'd responded to him over the COM channel. Instantly, a wave of relief washed over John. He smiled, only to have the smile immediately grow when he saw two other Spartans, whom he instantly recognized to be Fred and Linda, and small, almost frail figure with them. The white lab coat couldn't be mistaken. Dr. Halsey. Even though they still were tiny figures on the ground as the Pelican continued in its decent, John could tell who they were without even the slightest bit of doubt. He watched as Kelly tossed aside her helmet, and jumped into Fred's arms. Dr. Halsey dropped to her knees in the grass. And Linda, calm, cool Linda, just standing there, looking up at them.

John was smiling so much behind his mirrored visor that his face began to hurt. He was ecstatic. He hardly noticed how silent the ODSTs were, how silent Renee was, how silent Elsie was. All he could think about was that he had _finally_ done it. He had_ found_ them. This was the first time he'd seen them in over a year, it had been too long. For a while, he had been plagued with uncertainty if they had even been alive.

John couldn't forget that long time that he had thought he was the last Spartan II alive, all the others dead. The UNSC had them cleverly listed as MIA, to ensure the illusion that Spartans never die. He wished that could be true, so many times he had wished it to be true. He had forgotten what it was like to work with his fellow Spartan II's, the immediate connection felt with them. They were like his siblings – and they had been separated for too long. Now to see them, waving at him, looking up at him, it was like a breath of fresh air. He had seen that now Fred and Linda had removed their helmets as well. He found himself straining to see their faces, to refresh his memory of the foggy remnants he had of them, when he had last seen them after the massacre of Reach in 2552.

The Pelican was about ten feet off the ground, when John leaped out, not waiting for it to land.

"John!" Kelly rushed forward, her face carrying the most emotion he'd ever seen. Her face itself hadn't changed. She had the same mussed brown hair, the blue eyes. Strong, almost masculine features, pointed nose, and a pretty mouth.

"Kelly," John said, and with a blur, Kelly had whipped off his helmet and threw it aside. For a moment, the two Spartans, close to being face level with each other - though Kelly was slightly shorter - and just stared at each other, a smile on their faces. It seemed to shock Kelly, seeing him again. It took her a moment to speak.

"John," she said, her voice started off small, as if in disbelief, but almost ended brimming in ecstatic laughter, "You came for us. I knew you would, I knew you would!"

With this, she threw her arms around him. There was a clunk as her MJOLNIR armor collided with his. Her grip was firm, and it felt as if she didn't ever want to let go. John glanced over Kelly's shoulder to meet gazes, first with Fred, then Linda, and finally Dr. Halsey. The smile he wore on his lips was mirrored and doubled on the faces of his Spartans and the Doctor. It truly had been too long since had seen them. Kelly finally stepped back from John, and surprisingly, he saw her cheeks were faintly shining, and Kelly's smile couldn't be helped. Neither could be the tears she had unsuccessfully held back, John realized. Wiping almost in shame at her face with a gloved hand, Kelly took a couple steps backwards to swipe her helmet and his from the grass. Tossing his helmet back to John, who caught it gracefully, she stood to watch his reunion with Fred, Linda, and Halsey.

John, not forgetting Fred's rank of Lieutenant, gave him a proper salute, but Fred gave him a lopsided grin and held out his hand, which John grabbed without hesitation. The two Spartans patted each other on the back, and Fred muttered a few grateful words in John's ear. He had barely stepped back from John before Linda latched herself onto him, in a tight hug rivaling Kelly's. John let out a sigh of relief, glad to see Linda again. He was glad she was alive; he couldn't easily forget her brush with death a year ago. Linda, the trustworthy sniper, never missing her mark, with her carrot-colored hair and green eyes, she'd always been close with John.

"It's been too long, sir," she told him. John agreed with a nod as Linda stepped back, glancing to the other two Spartans. Kelly had turned away from her and Fred, trying to compose herself. John took a moment to look at his Spartans, as if to assure himself that they were really there, that he really had found them.

Then he looked to Dr. Halsey. She'd shrunk since he'd last seen her; age seemed to catch up with her. Her face was permanently etched with wrinkles from worrying. She still was wearing a lab coat, something she was rarely seen without. Her hair, now entirely grey, was tied back in a knot at the back of her head, like she had done so many times before. She seemed to be frail, but John, when he met her eyes, he could see she was still strong. She was still the Dr. Halsey that had flipped the coin for him when he was a child, so long ago on the playground on John's home world.

"Dr. Halsey, ma'am," John said with a nod. The Doctor was silent for a moment, and John realized she was looking him over as much as he had her. Finally, she smiled.

"John," she replied, "It's good to see you again."

"Likewise, ma'am."

Over by the Pelican, the ODSTs and Renee hadn't moved from their initial spots when they'd leaped out of the back. They stood silently watching this unfolding scene, this reunion that left them feeling somewhat like aliens, outsiders. Renee noticed immediately the connection between John and the others. It had been a long time since she had seen him with any of his Spartan II's. Kelly and Linda she recognized, and Dr. Halsey, but Fred was an unfamiliar face. John had mentioned him to her before, and Renee recalled John once telling her how Fred was the most normal out of the Spartans, and she could see why now. Despite the suit and his slightly pale complexion, there was nothing about him that really screamed Spartan.

Renee was thankful she had the ODSTs to be standing here by her, but at the same time, they didn't really help. She realized, she was the only marine here. The ODSTs were a group, and the Spartans and Dr. Halsey seemed like a family. A happy reunited family – and as Renee stood here watching them, she realized how alone she suddenly felt.

Glancing back over her shoulder, she saw Elsie, standing apart from the ODSTs, watching John and the Spartan II's. Her mouth was almost drooping into a frown, but Elsie had better self-control than that. It was a firm, slightly downturned line at best. Her bright blue eyes seemed to be alive, but not with happiness. It took Renee a moment to decode the emotion that Elsie was displaying on her face. It was sadness.

That's when Renee remembered, Elsie was supposed to have missing Spartans here, too. But, they weren't here. Renee instantaneously felt a shiver run down her spine, and forced herself to look away from Elsie, back to John and the others, then down at the ground. She wondered if this fact had dawned on anyone else.

"This is your team?" Fred spoke up, looking past John towards the group standing by the Pelican. Upon being mentioned, the ODSTs and Renee straightened, waiting to be further addressed, but Elsie ducked out from behind the rest of them, making her way towards the unfamiliar Spartan II's and the Doctor, her facial expression collected.

She stopped in front of them, and delivered a salute to Fred.

"I'm Elsie G153, Spartan III," she introduced herself, "I accompanied John on this mission, as he is not the only one with missing Spartans and I…"

"Ah," Dr. Halsey interrupted, in her calm voice. She wore a slight smile on her face, "Don't be worried, Elsie. Your team is here."

Instantaneous relief washed over Elsie's features, and her chest heaved as she inhaled and exhaled a rather large sigh. She glanced over to John, and he gave her a reassuring nod. John probably had sensed Elsie's uneasiness when she had seen only his team, and not hers, waiting and screaming to them in the grassy clearing.

"They are in Forerunner-like versions of cryo-stasis," Dr. Halsey continued, "Perfectly fine. We figured there wouldn't be sense in unfreezing them to let them wander about aimlessly as we have been for over a year, but now you've arrived, it won't take long to figure out how they are to be awoken."

Dr. Halsey touched Elsie's arm, beckoning her to come with her. Elsie obliged, and the two of them began walking off towards the main Forerunner structure that towered over everyone.

Halsey had that way with Spartans, even with the III's, John noted immediately. Trust between the two had almost been made instantly, and without much effort. Dr. Halsey's calm voice and soothing ways were enough to calm even the most enraged of Spartans, John had seen it before.

Fred turned to John, a faint chuckle in his throat:

"Sooner the better, get us out of this place," He said, giving John a light punch in the arm, "But first, introduce us to your obvious non-Spartan team."

The looks on the faces of the ODSTs when they found themselves standing in front of four towering Spartan II's was almost comical. Cleverly, Renee managed to shrink in behind Rookie and Buck, hoping that she wouldn't be singled out. She remembered the last time she had spoken to Kelly. She hadn't been friendly; she'd despised the idea of her being with John.

"ODSTs," John said, "That's Dutch, Romeo, Mickey, Rookie, and Buck. And Sergeant Kilburn is amongst them somewhere; she's of the Marine Corps."

Buck and Rookie stepped aside to reveal little Renee, who, at her height was able to hide behind them quite easily. She looked slightly uneasy, but looked to Fred, Linda, and finally Kelly. All three of the Spartan's expressions were generally unreadable, but neither friendly nor unfriendly. She guessed it was their default. When she looked to John, she saw, surprisingly, that his expression was the exact same.

Interest in the ODSTs and the one marine only fazed the Spartans for the few seconds it took for them to look them over, then the attention was turned back to John, who seemed to have been expecting a little more of a reaction from his newly-found Spartan team. He guessed, that they would have the same biased opinion on the ODSTs that he once had, and neither they nor a marine would excite them.

John, although he wouldn't bring it up again, was surprised that he had mentioned Renee and none of the Spartans seemed to recognize the significance of her name, or her face, for that matter. Kelly and Linda would recognize the name and the face, or at least they should, but Fred would have only a faint memory of her being brought up in discussion years and years ago. After Renee had fallen into a coma in '35, John returned to his Spartans and never ever mentioned her name to them again, and they hadn't asked why. He guessed that they quickly forgot about her, and from what he could gather now, didn't even register a memory at the mention of her name. However, John realized, even if they did, they wouldn't say anything, not now, anyway. Nothing was even being portrayed on their faces, until; Kelly turned to John and brought up Elsie in conversation.

"The Spartan III travelling with you," She said with curiosity, "Dr. Halsey seemed to take to her quickly."

"Yes," John replied with a nod, "Elsie's team are here as well… in cryotubes, I overheard the Doctor say?"

"Frozen solid and a bit luckier than we were," Linda folded her arms on her chest, "The past year was nothing but a deep sleep for them, it won't take Dr. Halsey long to figure out how to wake them up. Then," she jabbed a finger into John's chest, "You're going to get us the hell out of here."

"How did you ever find us?" Kelly was suddenly all questions, "Did you get my message?"

"Yes," John nodded, "Cortana picked it up, sent it to me. From there on, measures were taken to arrange a search and rescue mission to come and try to find you. However, the only thing we had to go on was the system your message came from. Finding this sphere… it was more or less, accidental. The team had just about given up… but I hadn't given up. They all wanted to go back, call it quits," John shot a glance over to the ODSTs and Renee, although he was speaking so low that they wouldn't be able to hear him, "But I wouldn't settle for it. We had opened a Slipspace void to begin the travel home, and I was enraged. I was going to come back and search this system over and over until I found you. Coincidentally, however, we came in contact with a large group of Sentinels."

"The Onyx Sentinels," Frederic momentarily interjected.

"Jumping into this sphere was completely accidental," John continued, "It must have been luck, just our coordinates in space at that time. Our intentions were to make the jump to Earth."

"Luck, you and your luck!" the grin that overtook Kelly's face was uncontrollable. She shook her head, "Thank god for your luck, John."

* * *

It took over an hour before Dr. Halsey or Elsie were seen again. During that time, two distinct groups had formed, the Spartan II's, who had gathered under the shade of a large tree, similar in species to a pine. John leaned against the trunk, while Kelly, Linda and Fred found their comfort on the grass. Linda lying on her back, arms folded behind her head, Fred sitting against the tree by John's feet, and Kelly on her stomach, holding her helmet in her hands, off and on gazing into the mirrored visor at her reflection. They made small talk; John informed them of what they had missed, the union made with the Sangheili, and how the war had been won. For the most part his Spartans listened, asked a question or inserted a remark here and there, but otherwise were content listening to John.

Over by the landed Pelican was where the second group had clustered. Rookie had made a rather comfortable place for himself, sitting in one of the seats nearest to the back hatch, his helmet on the seat beside him, eyes closed. No one bothered to see if he was asleep. Romeo sat across from him, but in a more casual manner, leaning forward, resting his arms on his knees with his head hung. Dutch, Renee, Mickey and Buck sat on the edge of the back hatch, their feet just dangling above the blades of grass. Occasionally, they would steal a glance at the Spartans, who were forty to fifty feet away.

"Better get used to this!" Mickey gave Renee, who was sitting beside him, a nudge with his elbow, "This type of segregation we're now being put through, we'll be dealing with it for the ride home, no doubt about it!"

"Look at them," Dutch interjected before Renee could reply to Mickey. By "them" he clearly meant the Spartans, "Do they really need to be over there? Here's just as good! Don't say shit about the shade, cause there's shade provided by the bird."

"Could be the shade," Buck raised one eyebrow sarcastically, but he looked around to his ODSTs, a grin on his face, "I don't care how good we got along with them two Spartans on our way here, this _proves_ their ignorance! The day where I don't have to deal with them anymore won't come quick enough."

"What do you say, Lil Sarge?" Romeo gave Renee a nudge in the back with his foot. She glanced over her shoulder at him, and then looked back to the group of Spartans on the grass. Rolling her shoulders in a nonchalant shrug, she didn't reply.

"You don't know?" Dutch looked to her with bewilderment, "You know more about the Spartans than we do. Come on, give us your predictions. Them Spartans: stuck-up dicks or bonding super soldiers?"

"Well, I'm sure they have a bit of catching up to do," she answered with a sigh, "And what they're catching up on – we wouldn't be able to provide much fuel to the conversation. I'm assuming, anyway. Not to mention, there's the age old Spartans and ODSTs thing."

"Biased bastards!" Romeo muttered.

"However, I agree with Buck," Renee frowned, laying back on the hatch, staring up at the Pelican's bulkhead, "The day I don't have to deal with them anymore, the sooner it comes, the better I'll be."

Suddenly, she felt four pairs of eyes on her, and Mickey made a comedic jab, tapping at the side of his head with his knuckles:

"Sorry, I must be going deaf. What did you say?"

"Yeah, repeat that please," Buck chimed in.

"I heard ya, but did I hear ya right?" Romeo demanded.

"I said, I'll be better off when I don't have to deal with Spartans anymore."

For a few moments, there was a silence. In the distance, Renee could hear the faint voices of the Spartans still talking beneath their tree.

"Um, Lil Sarge," Buck finally spoke up, "Hate to remind ya, but you're dating one."

Renee sat up, stretching her arms out in front of her. Her expression was unusually serious, her mouth a firm line, brows slightly downturned. Firmly, she shook her head, looking off in the distance, her eyes focusing on some far-off Forerunner structure with large mountains behind it. She didn't want to meet any of the ODST's eyes.

"No," she said, "Not anymore."

"Whoa!" Dutch and Mickey coincidentally exclaimed at the same time. From the ODSTs in general, several "whoa, whoa, whoa's" and "What's" suddenly filled the air around her. They were subsequently followed by "Since when's" and "Why's" and even a "How".

Renee glanced back over to the Spartans, and for a moment, she caught John's eye. Keeping his gaze, she answered the ODSTs simply as she could:

"Some things just don't last."

She was aware of the expression she carried on her face, and knew John would be able to read it, and maybe even hear what she said. She kept his gaze long enough to see his face begin to transform as he took in her expression, then looked away.

John, as he stood against the tree, felt a sudden wave of uncertainty. He kept his eyes locked on Renee for a few seconds, not sure what the gaze she'd just shared with him meant. He turned his attention back to his Spartans around them. They were talking quietly among themselves, but stopped as if they could sense there was something that had suddenly unsettled John. They looked up to him. Fred raised an eyebrow.

"John?" he asked, "Something the matter?"

John quickly responded with a single shake of his head.

"You're wearing it all over your face," Linda pointed out matter-of-factly.

"Ah, just…" John started, thinking up a lie in a split-second, "Just talking about all this, it…" he shrugged, "Oh, I don't know." He blinked a few times, then dragged his hand down over his face, letting out a sigh and putting a little smile in the place of a frown, "I mean, is it really that noticeable?"

"We noticed it," Kelly answered, her expression still skeptical, "But we can also understand," her face softened, "Understand that while we were stuck here, you were fighting hell of a battle. It still hasn't quite sunk in, that the war is over. It seems it's all that we've known, and now… well… now what?"

"The UNSC will find jobs for us, rest assured," Fred sounded nonchalant, "If not out in the field, they'll stick us in ONI."

"ONI?" Linda echoed, "Spartans in ONI? That's not what we're meant for."

Fred didn't reply, he just laid his head back against the trunk of the tree, letting out a sigh and closing his eyes. Linda exchanged glances with Kelly, who didn't seem to like the sounds of working in ONI either.

John, at that moment, felt a sickening lurch in the pit of his stomach. His Spartans were coming to the realization, the realization that had long since been weighing on his mind. Now that the war was over, what really was left for them? The civilian life already proved itself unsatisfactory to John, and he knew his Spartans wouldn't even want to put a toe in civilian life.

To make matters worse, the look Renee had given him had meant something, yet John wasn't able to quite figure out exactly what. Whatever it was, it wasn't good. He knew, even after Renee had apologized to him, something between them had been severed. Whether it was repairable, he didn't know. This whole mission had proven to be nothing but difficult for the both of them. It hadn't brought them closer; it had brought out their differences. The line separating them, the line between a marine and a Spartan, had always been so fine to them. For the longest time they had disregarded it, but even when they were living as civilians, Renee had been normal, and he, unchangeably, had been a Spartan. He would always be a Spartan. It wasn't a matter of rank, it didn't matter if he was enlisted in the UNSC or struggling to pretend to be a civilian, he was a Spartan. And Renee, she was simply a human, and one with strong civilian ties at that. Now, more than ever, their differences were brought into light, and had weighed heavily on both of their minds. It was as if these differences were now destroying them.

John had trouble seeing a future with her. He knew she would want to return to her civilian life, but now, that he was reunited with his Spartans he knew that he would want to stay in the UNSC. They were his Spartans, and he couldn't conceive the idea of leaving them and running back off to Los Angeles to live a faux life, pretending to carry ignorance to what he truly was, what he was trained to do, and where he truly belonged.

He just couldn't do it.

* * *

Within the hour, Dr. Halsey and Elsie strode from the Forerunner structure, with ten Spartan III's in tow. Elsie, beaming beyond her control, was the loudest voice in the bubbling chatter coming from the armored figures. Halsey, happy to witness another reunion, kept her pace ahead, glancing over her shoulder to the III's with a smile on her face. She came to approach her Spartan II's beneath the tree, who had all grown silent in their observance of the Spartan III's. John, who had known no other Spartan III beside Elsie, hadn't been expecting for there to be ten of them, but there they were. He had been melancholy with his thoughts, but allowed a small smile to come on his face when he saw the happiness portrayed on Elsie's.

"They're different from you," Halsey said to her Spartans, quietly, "But if one thing is the same, is the close bond they share."

Fred, Kelly and Linda nodded in mute agreement.

"We'll have to radio another Pelican," John answered, glancing up to the _Midnight Sun_, "I hadn't expected this." He glanced back to the Doctor, and saw she was looking at him, with the same piercing eyes he'd known since he was a mere child. She could read him like he was a book, and he knew, feeling almost guilty, that she sensed there was something troubling him.

However, she kept silent; John knew she wouldn't speak with him about it until the time was appropriate.

Over at the Pelican, the ODSTs had quite the reaction to the surprising amount of Spartans that had accompanied Halsey and Elsie from the building.

"Jesus Christ, we've been outnumbered!" Romeo let out a slight howl, "Look how many of them there are."

"Five… six… seven… eight… nine… ten…" Mickey was busy counting heads, "Ten! Not including Elsie and Chief's group snubbing us over yonder."

"Fifteen," Dutch was quick to calculate. He glanced back over his shoulder to Rookie, who had dozed off. He slapped him in the leg, and Rookie awoke with a start. "Check this out, Rook. Fifteen Spartans."

Rookie took one look at the scene, shook his head and closed his eyes again. Renee noticed this, and let out a light laugh. She hadn't been expecting that many Spartans, either. The Spartan conversation had died amongst her and the ODSTs when she had mentioned the termination of her relationship with John, but now arose again with good reason. She, however, remained silent with no intentions of voicing an opinion.

Without warning, Buck began to sing on improv,

"_Oh, take me home,_

_To where no Spartans roam, _

_Home, where I can be all alone, _

_With a six-pack of beer_…"

This roused laughter from everyone.

"_And Veronica-a-a-a," _Dutch was quick to add on in a sour falsetto. This earned him a clout from Buck, but it was all in good fun. The spontaneous song instantly lightened the mood.

It took them a moment to notice that Frederic had approached them. He was standing silently in front of them, and didn't speak to gain their attention, but waited to be noticed. Renee was the only one out of them all that knew this was Fred, let alone to be able to distinguish a Spartan II from a Spartan III.

"Hullo there, son," Dutch gave Fred a nod.

"What number are you?" Romeo asked boldly, with a silly grin on his face, "One? Seven? Fifteen?"

Buck muttered a harsh "shut-up" to Romeo, before looking into Fred's expression of stone. Although he had been the one to sing the song about Spartans, he now bore apparent respect.

"Lieutenant Frederic-104, Spartan II," Fred put emphasis on his rank, his voice smooth and controlled. He ignored the curses from Romeo and Dutch as they realized they had spoken rather nonchalantly to a Lieutenant, and continued, "Sergeant Buck, you shall take your men and return to the ship. Inform the pilot aboard to return, as you have already so cleverly noted, there are fifteen of us besides your team and Dr. Halsey. There shall have to be a couple more trips made."

"Yes, sir," Buck replied.

"Oh, and Sergeant Kilburn," Frederic addressed Renee, who sat up straighter at the mention of her name, "Master Chief would like to speak with you once everyone is aboard the frigate."

Renee, although she knew it would be proper for her to reply with a crisp "Yes, sir!", couldn't reply, as she felt the color drain from her face. Instead, she nodded almost dumbly. Fred took note of this, and to Renee's surprise, she saw his expression momentarily soften, but he turned and headed back towards the other Spartans.

"Well, what's he got up his ass?" Romeo muttered.

"He's been stuck in this place for a year, hasn't seen any action – of both variants," Dutch replied, a slight grin coming onto his face.

"There were _two _lady Spartans with him," spat back Romeo, "He could've got plenty of action."

Mickey whistled.

"Goddamn it, guys!" Buck groaned, "Really? Get your asses moving! Let's get this bird in the air! Rookie, you seem to be a damn good pilot for what I can remember, climb in the cockpit!"

Wordlessly, Rookie did as he was told, and the ODSTs and Renee got into their seats. As the Pelican headed up towards the _Midnight Sun_, the ODSTs all participated in an encore of Buck's song, even coming up with another verse:

"_Oh, take me home,_

_To where no Spartans roam,_

_'Til then I'll settle for cryo sleep,_

_That six pack o' beer floatin' in my dreams"_

When the Pelican arrived in the docking bay, the ODSTs and Renee quickly climbed out of it, delivered the message to the pilot onboard, and within five minutes the Pelican was away again for its second trip. The ODSTs and Renee lingered momentarily in the docking bay, but the idea of getting out of their gear was proposed and that became their next priority.

Buck, however, was called to the bridge by Veronica. In the excitement, John must've forgotten about letting them know what exactly had happened down there.

"Now I gotta be the messenger!" Buck had groaned before jogging off.

"Say, what d'you suppose Master Chief wants to talk to you about?" Mickey asked Renee as they walked towards the elevator. Renee jerked the ammo clip from her assault rifle and put it back in with a fairly loud _slap_, and didn't seem keen on answering him. But the ODSTs, aside from Rookie of course, wanted to know, and they helped Mickey in his questioning.

"Yeah, that was curious," Dutch noted, "John sending Spartan Freddy one-hundred-and-whatever- the-hell over to talk to us instead of coming over himself! And getting him to tell you that, strange!"

"Think he heard what you said?" Romeo asked lowly, in a hushed tone although there were no Spartans around, "Is this a mutual agreement between you two, or have you…"

"Guys!" Renee barked sharply, hurrying her pace to get in front of them, "That's enough!" She gave them a glance over her shoulder, her expression looking rather pained, "Don't forget I'm a Sergeant! You have no authority to question me on such matters…" her voice began to falter, and she turned away from them, most likely because she was struggling to keep her face composed. "…But my guess is as good as yours."

Mickey, Romeo, and Dutch exchanged wary glances. Surprisingly, Romeo was given a wordless shove from behind by Rookie, portraying a message similar to a sarcastic "Nice going".

"Hey now, Rook!" Romeo frowned, "What was that for?"

Rookie, looking irritated, simply shook his head.

"Sorry, Lil Sarge," Mickey called after Renee, quick to catch on, "We didn't mean to interrogate you like that. We just think it's strange, that's all. Say, are you going into going into cryo for the way home?"

"I don't know," she shrugged, glancing back at him, "You?"

"I think we all will, yeah," Mickey answered, "Two weeks is two weeks, why not sleep through it? We've been through quite a lot. I think we all need a deep sleep."

Renee shrugged again, but after a beat, she agreed.

"Yeah, I suppose when you put it that way. It'd benefit us all."

* * *

The ODSTs and Renee were in the armory, getting out of their armor and putting away their weapons, when they heard the call over the loudspeaker, Dare beckoning John-117 and Elsie-G153 to the bridge, and a pause, then it also asked for Fred-104, Kelly-087, and Linda-058. There was a pause between each of the names, and it was clear that Cortana must be telling them to her.

Just then, Buck came into the armory, letting out a "Jesus Christ!" and putting his gun back in its place on the gun rack. Running his fingers through his hair, he exclaimed, "What use I was!"

"How'd that go?" Renee asked, amused, a smirk coming on her face.

"They expected me to know the names of the Spartans!" Buck chuckled at this, shaking his head, "And I told 'em, I only knew one guy was named Frederic. Then I had to describe what the other two looked like to the AI so that she could figure out who they were! And I told 'em, I hadn't a sweet clue who any of those other Spartans were, they never took off their helmets, let alone said names! They'll get it outa Elsie and John, hopefully."

Dutch shook his head in disbelief, and Romeo let out a laugh.

"Oh, and Lil Sarge," Buck said, "Passed John on the way here, he was headed to the bridge before they called him. He's psychic or something, I swear. But, he told me to tell you to wait for him in his room. Probably a detail he didn't wanna tell his Spartan bro."

"You better set him straight, Lil Sarge!" Romeo raised a brow, walking out of the room towards the showers, "He's probably expecting some lovin'."

Renee shook her head, watching him as he left, and Dutch, Mickey and Rookie were quick to follow him. They knew that this was an awkward conversation, and staying would only provoke them to ask questions, and it was obvious Renee didn't want them asked.

Buck looked sympathetic as he set his helmet on the rack alongside the other ODSTs'. As he took off his chest plating, he said, "Hope this isn't too tough on you. Seems like you and John have gotten worse since this mission started."

"I sometimes wonder if I should have stayed home," she answered contemplatively, "Not have even bothered coming along. What use was I, anyway? I learned Troy's brother was an Insurrectionist and subsequently watched him get shot, not before being beaten half to death for not giving information that I didn't know in the first place," she looked up to Buck, "And don't say I wasn't useless. Cause the same goes for you and your squad, Eddie. We had no real purpose coming along."

"We came along because we were ordered to," Buck shrugged, "You came along because you felt like you had to, and I think that's where you were wrong. John's the Master Chief, the guy who pretty much ended this war single-handed. He fought without your help for twenty years; he didn't need you with him on this mission. I think he tried to tell you that."

"He did tell me that," sighed Renee, sitting down on an ammo box.

"At least you admit it then. Sorry if I'm coming off as blunt, but you had no purpose being here, and why you'd put yourself in danger just for him, I don't get it. It's not like you can protect John. The guy's a beast. He can hold his own."

"I guess it's because, I love him," Renee answered in a quiet voice. But she let out a laugh, "It sounds so dumb now, to say. And it's a little late, when we've already fallen apart."

"You just gotta talk to him," Buck shrugged, "You guys are different, completely different. Think about it, what do you really have in common? Besides love? Maybe that's your fault line," He put his hand on her shoulder, "But, I'm no good in this field, Lil Sarge. I don't know what else to tell ya."

"Thanks, Eddie," Renee sighed. She got to her feet, and let out another sigh, rolling her shoulders. Even though she was now just wearing a t-shirt, fatigues and boots, she felt warm, "Well, I'm off. I have no idea how this is going to turn out."

"Good luck."

She raised her eyebrows and shrugged, and left the armory. Her walk to John's room was an almost out-of-body experience, she didn't quite feel herself. It was almost as if she was walking to the place of her execution. She knew somewhere deep down, that this wouldn't end happily. She knew that she and John wouldn't be able to come to terms.

Perhaps Buck was right; maybe she hadn't realized it, when everyone else had. She and John were different. Completely different, and the only thing that they had in common was a love that had brewed close to twenty years ago.

Love was enough to keep two people together, wasn't it? Wasn't it supposed to be the most powerful of all human emotions? It was supposed to burn strong, a fire that would never die. But, she realized then, this whole mission, she and John had slowly been smothering their fire. The flames that had once burned white hot were now nothing but winking red coals. It would only be so long before they would go out, before all that they once had would be just wisps of smoke.

A memory.

The past.

What once had been.

And this thought frightened Renee.

There had to be a way, they had to rekindle the flames. There was no way she could just let them die. But was it too late? Perhaps they were already gone. And Renee knew that there was no resuscitating what had long since grown cold.

* * *

**A/N: **Here it is, chapter 27. Hope you enjoyed it. - AB


	28. Attempted Reconciliation

**Chapter 28: Attempted Reconciliation **

**September 19****th****, 2553 – Shield World - Zeta Doradus System**

John stood beside Elsie on the bridge, his Spartan II's behind them. Introductions had been issued to Lyons and Dare, and now, all eyes were on Cortana, as she was in the process of calculating the correct Slipspace coordinates that would hopefully get them out of the shield world, back into mainstream space, then, back into Slipspace and eventually back to Earth.

"What are the possibilities of us getting out of here?" Elsie asked Cortana, but the little holographic figure kept her head bent and issued no response. She was busy calculating, too deeply to respond, or perhaps, she just didn't want to.

Elsie met John's eyes then the two glanced back over their shoulders at Kelly, Fred and Linda, who were standing stick straight and motionless behind them. Their faces portrayed nothing, but John could tell that they were on edge, eager to know whether they would be able to get out of this sphere. The jump in here had been a miscalculation, but John remembered Kelly saying to him before that she and Dr. Halsey had been able to disable the force field that surrounded the sphere months ago, that was how Kelly's message had ever gotten out, how this mission ever happened.

In theory, they should be able to jump back out of the sphere just as easily as they had jumped in. John hoped that Cortana would be able to do this for them; his eyes went back to her holographic body – and just that instant, her head snapped up and her arms folded on her chest.

"Appropriate calculations found," she announced smoothly, and John thought he could hear one of his Spartans let out a sigh of relief. He felt like doing so himself, but decided not to, not until they were actually out of this situation.

Cortana would do her job, so relax, a voice in John's head told him. He glanced over as Dare sat down in a chair, rubbing her temples slowly. Lyons, standing beside her, glanced down sympathetically only for a moment before looking back to the AI.

"Opening a Slipspace void," Cortana continued to narrate her progress, "Engaging forward thrusters… now let's hope that this works. You have fingers, people, cross 'em."

John, whose hands were folded behind his back, instantly crossed his. He closed his eyes, as the ship began to rumble. The rumbling increased, until the entire ship was shaking violently. John grabbed onto the table in front of him, keeping his head lowered.

"Come on, come on, come on," he heard Fred muttering under his breath.

Suddenly, the shaking stopped. For a few seconds, the entire bridge was silent, no one dared to move, to speak, and so it seemed, to even breathe. No one wanted to ask the question that was burning terribly in their mind, the question that was lingering on the tip of their tongues. _Did they do it_?

"Look at this," Cortana's voice said, and the holographic screen flashed them an image, "We're back in business."

John stared and stared and stared for what seemed a lifetime at the image in front of him. Millions of glittering stars on a black backdrop. They had made it out. A smile came onto his face, and it was contagious, soon everyone was smiling.

Cortana, pleased at her work, came over the loudspeaker to all those not present on the bridge:

"We've done it, people. Within a few minutes, we'll be in Slipspace headed back. Destination, Earth."

John accepted a hug from Elsie, who whispered a "Thank god" in his ear. Then he accepted eager bear hugs from Fred, then Kelly, then Linda. They didn't speak a word, but he knew exactly how they were feeling. They were no longer trapped in a Shield World; they were back in action, back with him. A team reunited.

* * *

Renee sat John's room silently, waiting for him, perched on the edge of his cleanly made bed. It had been five minutes ago now, that she had heard Cortana announce the good news; that they had gotten out of the Shield World and were now headed home to Earth. Good as it was to hear, she couldn't help but feel as if her excitement was somewhat stunted.

Earth. The city of Los Angeles. Amy, Troy, Wayne, her parents and even Thomas at the diner. All of this translated to home, but she knew that if she went back to LA, she would be coming back with one less person. She would be without John. She had been without him for so long, she had just got him back, but she knew he wouldn't want to stay.

Many ideas whirled around in her head. There was an UNSC base in LA, John knew that. Perhaps, just perhaps, she could persuade him to ask to be stationed there. He could have his life in the UNSC, but come home to her at the end of the day.

That's assuming he still loves you, a voice in Renee's head told her, shooting down her idea almost instantaneously. Whether he loved her anymore, she didn't know. She knew that things between them had deteriorated since the mission started. They had argued because he wanted to search for his Spartans, and she wanted to go home; but now his Spartans had been found! They were headed back to Earth now, a good few weeks in Slipspace and they would be home. She and John should be fine now, their argument had no substance anymore; John had found his Spartans. Everything was alright now, or at least, it should be.

The sound of the door hissing open broke Renee from her thoughts, and instantly, she shot to her feet and locked eyes with John, who now stood in the doorway. He was now out of his armor, and dressed in a grey t-shirt and standard-issue camo fatigues. Having expected to see her there, his expression changed none as he walked into the room.

Renee took in his face, he looked tired. There were dark circles under his eyes and his cheeks were lacking any sort of color. That's when she remembered, not just he, but she as well, had been awake for over twelve hours straight. Upon this realization, she took note of how actually tired her body felt, her limbs felt heavy. As a person, she felt incredibly smaller than her actual 5'5" stature as she found herself standing in front of John, but she decided right then and there she wouldn't falter. Despite the challenging lump in her throat, she straightened her posture, and raised her chin in a fake sort of confidence.

A confidence, she knew, wouldn't last long. She was very well aware of the situation ahead, and felt very much like a person who decided to laugh when they were informed they were headed to their deaths when in fact they knew it for themselves. Thinking of this comparison, Renee felt like laughing herself, but couldn't bring herself to do it. Instead, she arranged her face to the best composed expression she could manage, and bet John to the punch by speaking first.

"We're finally going home, that's good," Renee knew her casual air would throw him off, "And you found your Spartans, I should've known you were right all along. I didn't know why I ever doubted you."

John just gave a curt nod, followed by a shrug.

"Perhaps your priorities were different than mine," he said simply.

"I guess I just never thought of the possibility of a Shield World."

"Neither did I, but I didn't give up searching as you and your ODSTs were so quick to do," John's tone changed, the slight furrowing of his eyebrows portrayed annoyance.

"Me and _my _ODSTs, huh?" Renee wasn't amused; she folded her arms on her chest, "You just group me in with them, now? And I see you didn't bother to properly introduce me to your Spartans."

"Do you think they care?" John was quick to snap back, "I have no doubt Kelly recognized you, she just didn't say anything, mostly because she doesn't care. Step into their shoes, they were stranded in that Shield World, and by chance, and chance only, they were found and rescued by us. The last thing they would care about is some marine I loved from twenty years ago."

Renee's spine tingled at the sound of the past tense, "loved".

"Loved?" she allowed a smile to come out onto her face, but she shook her head and declared, "I know why you wanted me here. I know what's going to happen, let's get it over with and be done."

"This is not what you think," John said, and instantly, Renee arched an eyebrow.

"How do you know what it is I'm thinking?" she asked.

"I don't, but I know you wouldn't think as I think. What I'm thinking, you wouldn't dare to conceive."

"Oh?" Renee said, "That's strange, because I can see, just as you can see, that we're falling apart, John."

"Yes, well," John didn't bat an eye, he remained very professional, "I wanted to talk to you, to discuss what is best that we do when we find ourselves back on Earth. I suppose you're planning to leave the UNSC?"

"I am, I came here on this mission to be with you, although at the time it was to be understood that you would come back with me once it was all over," Renee felt her throat tightening. She swallowed, but it didn't do much good.

"You never were a soldier," John said quietly, a disbelieving smile coming onto his face. These words hit her with surprising force; she was quick to choke out a response:

"Excuse me?"

"You never once joined the UNSC for yourself. When you were eighteen, you and Amy joined to follow after Fisher, didn't you?" John demanded, and without knowing it, he hit the nail right on the head. He watched Renee's composure immediately falter and she shook her head in denial, but no longer was able to meet his eyes. He continued, "You never realized what hell you were getting yourself into. It took seeing your best friend die right in front of your eyes just for you to get an idea of what war is really like, didn't it?"

Renee was shaking her head still, and turned sideways to him, avoiding his gaze completely. But John could see the tears welling up in her eyes. At the moment, he could feel no empathy for her. He wasn't done.

"Now, nineteen years later, you followed me back into the UNSC, and for what? You didn't care about whether or not I found my Spartans, you made that quite clear!"

"All of this, I've done all of this, because I love you!" Renee cried, whipping around to face him boldly, "If I hadn't, I would've stayed home. But can't you see? I love you, even though it may not seem like it now. John, I know things between us have been crumbling. But it's not too late! We can make this work! Just because it is not my intentions to stay in the UNSC, shouldn't mean you give up on me. If you said I was never a soldier, why does it discourage you to see me leave?"

"That's not the point at all," he answered immediately with a firm shake of his head, "The point I'm trying to make is the point that everyone tried to make to us all along. That we're different. We're two entirely different people, from two entirely different worlds! I can't expect you to be a die-hard soldier, just as you can't expect me to be a stay-at-home civilian, hiding out pretending to be someone I'm not!"

"I thought our differences were what brought us together!" She protested, "Don't you remember how it used to be for us? How everyone frowned upon us? How the only one who supported us was Dr. Halsey and Amy? We knew our differences, just as we know them now, but we were strong then. We didn't collapse beneath all of the prejudice, we didn't! We stayed strong!"

"In the beginning, you're right. But now, our differences are tearing us apart," John's voice was serious, he knew the power of the truth he was speaking, "They're destroying us."

"They will only destroy us if we let them," a visible determination came into Renee's eyes, which now were boring into his. John noticed this immediately, and he was silent for a moment, letting her last words sink into his mind. She took a deep breath, and continued, "I don't know about you, but I'm not letting them. I'm not backing down. I will stand and fight this. And you're the Master Chief. You've been fighting all your life. Think of this as another mission. We can win this. It may be a long haul; it sure as hell will take a lot of work. I don't know what we'll have to do, I don't know what will happen, but if there's one thing I know, is that I can't live without you."

Although Renee had been half expecting her words to dissolve John's hardened expression, and to have him take her into his arms and kiss her, tell her he loved her and that she was absolutely right, that they would work on this and not let this die – he didn't.

Several seconds of silence passed before John finally decided to speak. When he did, it wasn't even close to the response Renee had been wanting:

"We need a break."

Renee realized right then that although she had been able to nonchalantly tell the ODSTs that she and John were no longer in a relationship, how unconcerned she'd acted about it, it was completely the opposite. She realized, that if she and John were to separate, how terrified she would be. How awful she would be. And John, he didn't seem to get that.

"A break?" she echoed, feeling her anger welling up inside of her, "A break?" her voice started to waver. She took a step back from him, feeling the color leaving her face, the feeling of tears startling to prickle her eyes, but she blinked them back. Anger was the dominating emotion that was quickly overtaking her. Turning away for a moment, Renee clenched and unclenched her fists, a surge anger overwhelming her like never before. Without warning, she turned, letting out a frustrated scream, and threw herself at John like a maniac.

"Goddamn you!" she yelled, noticing John's startled face. She shoved at him, once, twice, screaming at the top of her lungs, not caring who could hear her, "You son of a bitch! You son of a bitch, you awful, miserable son of a bitch!"

John, surprised by the sudden fury and not expecting her attack, received a couple powerful shoves, and a kick from Renee, before trying to restrain her. He clamped onto her wrist, stopping her fist from hitting him in the chest. She struggled, her composure dissolving completely, tears flowing down her face, she continued to scream:

"Let me go! Let me go, you bastard!" she pulled against his grip with all her might, squirming like a worm on a hook. When John released his hold on her, she stumbled backwards into the locker with a loud smash. John, bewildered at her behavior, stared at her as if she had gone crazy. Standing instinctively in a defensive stance, John tried to talk some sense into her, as she didn't appear ready to back down.

"Stop it!" John shouted; his voice was impossibly loud in the little room, "What the hell is the matter with you!"

Too emotional to speak, Renee went to his bed, yanking the blankets off. She tossed them at him, the pillow following not too far behind, screaming as she did. John, completely unaffected by the flying bed sheets, crossed the room to her in a couple of strides, not before she could pick up one of his dress shoes and hurl it at him. With his quick reflexes, John raised his arm and the shoe bounced off his forearm. Renee, hysterical, was reaching for the second shoe when John grabbed her by the shoulders, shoving her up against the locker with another smash. She was momentarily dazed by John's surprised force, but she struggled with him, her strength no match to John's. She tried to claw at him, hit whatever part of him she could, kick at him, all the while screaming profanities.

"STOP IT!" John bellowed in her face.

Giving up against his strength, Renee let her head roll forward, and for a moment, the two of them just stood there. John, who had a hold of both of her hands, waited until he felt her muscles relax before letting her go. John stared down at her, bewildered by the sudden strength and anger he'd seen come from such a little woman. But now, she'd dissolved, and for a moment, she just stood there against the locker and cried.

John stood still as a statue, not moving, just studying her. A part of him wanted to comfort her, but that part of him felt so far-off and foreign he didn't even attempt it.

With a sudden recharge of energy, Renee raised her head, but didn't meet his eyes. Giving him a rough shove, she said in a level, controlled voice, "Get out of my way," she slid out from between him and locker, heading for the door, "You want a goddamn break, you'll get more than that. I don't want to ever speak to you again. I'm done." She paused in the doorway, glancing over her shoulder, to see him looking at her. She met his eyes, an unforgiving, pained expression on her face, "Goodbye, John."

And she left him, standing in his room, amongst the scattered shoes, bed sheets, pillow, and the now-dented locker door. And John, with a yell, slammed his fist into the closest wall.

* * *

The ODSTs were in the showers, and were the different stages of finishing up. Dutch sat on one of the benches with a towel wrapped around his waist. Buck was leaning over the sink in the same attire, shaving; Romeo beside him doing the same. Rookie was getting dressed wordlessly, and Mickey was still in the shower, serenading them with some awful singing.

"Christ, Mick, didja ever think of auditioning somewhere?" Dutch guffawed, "Your voice… it's something else."

The sound of rushing water, then Mickey responded:

"I'm an ODST, not an opera singer. Don't know what you were expectin'."

"And I bet if you opened your mouth and sang us a solo tune, it wouldn't be much better, Dutch," Romeo mused, rubbing his chin to make sure it was smooth, before finding a rough spot and going over it again with the razor.

Buck, next to him, let out a chuckle.

"What do you think of finally going home?" he asked his men, rinsing his razor off in the sink. He leaned forward, and splashed water on his face, washing off the remnants of the shaving cream, "I think I'm too happy about that to be worried about the quality of Mickey's singing."

"Good point!" Romeo agreed.

That's when from far off down the hallway, there was what sounded like a scream. Rookie picked up on it first, and tapped Dutch on the shoulder, who was still teasing Mickey. Dutch looked back over his shoulder at Rookie quizzically.

"What?"

Rookie gestured towards the door, but nothing needed to be said, for they could hear as plain as day, screaming. The voice, although incredibly shrill, could be recognized:

"You son of a bitch! You son of a bitch! You awful, miserable son of a _bitch_!"

Romeo had paused with the razor halfway to his face, Buck paused from wiping his face off with a towel, and Mickey shut off the shower.

"Shit… is that…" Mickey started, sticking his head out from the shower stall.

"Lil Sarge," Buck answered for him grimly.

"Things aren't going well, I take it," Dutch made a face.

"What the hell's going on?" Romeo questioned without a thought, "Somebody should go check that out."

Buck finished wiping his face on the towel, and then grabbed his clothes from the bench, letting out a sigh.

"I don't need to be nominated," he said as he quickly got dressed on the spot, "I'll go. We can't have the two of them killing each other."

"Spartan would kill _her_," Romeo pointed out.

"I wouldn't go, if I were you," Dutch called after Buck, who headed out the door barefooted, wearing a pair of sweat pants and a t-shirt. He disappeared around the corner, only to appear again a second later, looking hesitant.

Buck thought of the conversation he had earlier with Renee, and how she had expressed that she and John's relationship was over. Hell, this was just the break-up they were hearing, and it was obvious Renee wasn't taking it well. But, he hadn't heard her scream like that before. Remembering when he had been witness to John breaking Nathan's arm effortlessly, he realized it would be a good idea to make sure this break-up hadn't gotten physical.

Letting out a shrug, Buck headed back out the door, and down the hallway towards the location of John's room, straining to hear any more noise, but all there was, was the sound of his bare feet on the metal tiles. Momentarily, his mind betrayed him and he thought up all sorts of situations he could find once he reached John's room, all of them involving Renee being injured or even dead. Although he had worked hard to get along with John for the past few weeks and try to overcome the stereotypes he'd become accustomed to thinking, he found it hard to believe that John, if he got angry enough, wouldn't lash out at Renee and injure her.

Buck didn't arrive at his destination, however. Ahead of him, he saw the door to John's room open and Renee hurry out. He only caught a glimpse of the anger on her red, tear-streaked face before she turned and headed in the opposite direction, not seeing him. Buck hesitated for a moment, to make sure that Renee wasn't to be followed by John, but seconds ticked by and no enraged Spartan emerged from the room. Watching as Renee hurried further and further away down the hallway, Buck debated on whether or not to intervene.

Deciding quickly, he bolted forward, catching up with Renee quickly. She heard him coming, and whipped around, the look on her face absolutely malicious. Words of insult were already halfway from her mouth before she saw it was him, not John.

"Stay the fuck awa…" Renee paused, and her expression softened slightly as she clued in, "Oh, it's you."

"Vicious!" Buck said, trying to lighten the mood, "You alright Lil Sarge? We heard you screaming and just thought…" he trailed off, knowing he didn't need to finish.

Renee, despite her face wet with tears, looked angrier than anything else. Her brow furrowed, lips pursed and with a single gesture she mentioned for him to walk with her. Buck fell in step with the short little marine, glancing down at her as she wiped at her face with her hand, almost sheepishly. She looked pitiful, but the words that came from her mouth were venomous:

"I don't want to be pitied!" it was if she could read his mind, but she didn't meet his eyes, "Don't you dare pity me, don't you dare; I don't need any goddamn pity."

"You're pissed, clearly. I think I should fear you, not pity you."

Renee let out a snort, her face contorting into almost one of disgust.

"Miserable asshole."

"Me?" Buck asked immediately.

"No," Renee glanced over her shoulder, "That bastard back there!" Without warning, she grabbed two handfuls of her hair, and exclaimed rather loudly, "UGH!" Stopping, she turned and put her head to the wall, clamping her hands at the back of her neck. Shaking her head ever so slightly, she whispered, "Jesus Christ, what the hell just happened."

"It didn't go well," Buck inferred.

"I exploded," she said, mentioning herself, not John, "I don't think I've ever gotten so mad, I'm still furious. Furious at what, I don't even know! Furious at John, furious at myself, furious at myself for letting it all crumble."

Although Renee was speaking, Buck sensed that she wasn't talking directly to him. She was more just talking, to talk, to get things off her chest. Besides, Buck didn't need all the details as to what happened between her and John. He could put two and two together, and made a safe guess that she was no longer with him. To see her in this state, however, made him feel like he should at least try to do something to console her; it would be a long few weeks in Slipspace, that is, if everyone didn't decide to hit up the cryo tubes.

"Ah, I'll just ramble if I talk any further," Renee said, "My room's right over there, I'm going to pack my things. You can come with me, if you like. Stand in the doorway and listen to me bitch, if it so interests you." With that, she headed towards her room. Buck followed, not because he was intent on necessarily listening to her talk, but he was preoccupied with what she had just said.

"Pack your things?" Buck echoed, although at nearly the second he did, he realized why.

"Yeah," Renee nodded, walking into her room, crossing over to the locker and throwing it open. She dragged her knapsack out from under the bed, and began throwing her belongings into it, not caring about organization, "So I won't have to do it when we get back to Earth. If you think I'm going to endure a few weeks in Slipspace awake, you're crazy."

"You're hittin' up the icebox then, eh?" he said, "Just like that?"

"Yup, just like that."

"What are your plans now that… well, now that this mission is over?"

"I'm going home," Renee didn't have to think twice, "I'm not sure if I'll quit, maybe just take a vacation for a little while. Do office duty at the base in LA afterwards perhaps; 'cause it's a job, right? I need to get money somehow."

"You and John are _tout fini _then, for good?"

There was a long beat of silence, as Renee paused, one hand on the locker door, staring into the depths of the locker as if it were an abyss. Buck knew that it was a daring question to have asked, but he just needed to be sure. He wanted to try and help as much as he could, if he could at all, and finding out what exactly had gone down between the two had-been lovers was somewhat crucial.

Renee had been dumbstruck by Buck's question, immobilized, frozen. French wasn't even close to being a language she excelled in, but she understood the phrase _tout fini_. All finished. The question had a staggering effect on her. Her anger now had time to subside and the reality of what just happened between her and John hit her in a low blow.

She thought of going home, to Amy, to her parents, without John. She remembered that John, an unfazed millionaire, had once told her she could use his money. They had more or less planned out their life; Renee had been content with the idea that they wouldn't have to worry about anything, except perhaps the occasional person recognizing John's face. They had had it all planned. She wouldn't have had to worry, but now, heading home without John – she would go back to the house that her parents owned, and have to live from cheque to cheque (issued by the UNSC for her medical discharge in '35) but it wasn't much. She remembered the times she had had to ask her parents, or even Amy, for help financially. More than once she had sat down and had soup for supper, soup for lunch, and cheap sugary cereal for breakfast. And most of all, she remembered the many nights she had laid in bed alone, unable to sleep, wondering if John was alive, if he were dead, if he would ever come back to her. That empty loneliness in her heart she felt whenever she looked at the picture on the mantel, of her, John, Amy and Troy, or when she would gather up the courage to open the drawer and take the diamond necklace in her hands, and be reminded of the time John had given it to her as a gift.

The realization was as cold as the locker door. She would have to go back to that way of living again. Only this time, she would have to try and realize that John was alive, but he wasn't coming back to her. She would sleep alone, walk the house alone, she would be alone; again.

"I can't do it!" Renee turned to face Buck, her voice trembling, "I can't go back without him, I can't." Distraught, she looked around the room and down to the half-packed knapsack at her feet. Almost as if she were bewitched by her strained nerves, her legs gave out from under her, and she collapsed to the floor, trembling.

Buck hurried forward, kneeling down by her side. For a moment, he just watched her as she lost all composure, her face crumpling. Reaching forward and grabbing her shoulder supportively, Buck felt lost for words. Renee breathed in deeply, as if his gesture was too much, and with exhaling she let out a mournful sob. Dropping her head almost shamefully onto his shoulder and clutching onto his sleeve with one hand, she began to cry quietly.

"Hang in there, Lil Sarge," Buck muttered. He was rather inexperienced when it came to comforting, but he began rubbing her back as if she were a little girl, "This is just another bump in the road. You'll make it through." He felt her body shake with a suppressed sob, and he could sense that she was embarrassed for crying.

"Hey," he whispered, "Lil Sarge, tell ya what, why don't you just come and spend time with me and my ODSTs? We'll cheer you up. Mickey will no doubt have Brute, he'll be glad to see ya, right?"

No response; just more muffled sobs. They sat there for a while, and Buck just allowed her to cry. He could feel that his shirt was damp with her tears. He wished he could do more to help her, help this situation that she currently found herself in. It wasn't pretty. He remembered back to when things hadn't gone right for him and Veronica, and how he had felt. Although, he was sure it was nothing compared to this, he could draw some comparison and from that grew sympathy.

Eventually, Renee straightened, leaning back against the locker, wiping her face with her hands, staring perplexed at ahead of her. Her eyes were puffy from crying.

"Listen," Buck said softly, "Is there anything I can do? Do you want me to try to speak to John for you?"

Upon this suggestion, Renee looked horrified, she shook her head. As if this wasn't a good enough answer, she spoke: "No. That wouldn't be a good idea."

"Why? I'm not afraid to stand up to him, Lil Sarge."

"It's not that!" Renee cried, "Talking to him would do no good! It was all my doing! I hit him, I screamed at him, I called him awful things! I completely lost it. Why would he ever want to hear what I have to say; why would he want to even think about reconciling? I've lost him, and I've damned myself to an eternity of solitude! I've ruined my chances with the very man I can't live without." With this, the tears began to fall down her face anew. Her misery seemed endless, her emotions wild. Just as Buck was thinking some encouraging words, Renee jumped to her feet, heading towards the door, her final words: "Just let me go into cryo."

Buck rushed out of the room to follow her, but stopped to just watch her run off down the hallway. There was no use trying to persuade her. It would be best to let her go, a voice in his head told him, the few weeks in Slipspace would be hell for her if she stayed awake. And it was her battle to fight, but a wicked one at that; what an awful mess she was in. In all of his years of service, Buck couldn't quite recall someone breaking down as she had, but her situation was entirely different, after all. Now he understood why relationships between members of the UNSC were frowned upon. There was the strain of work, combined with the usual ups and downs of a relationship, and that often made things difficult. Buck knew this quite well with his relationship with Veronica, though they hadn't ever gone through something _this _bad.

Curiosity got the best of him; Buck decided right then and there he would confront John. He went to the Spartan's room, and was just raising his fist to knock, when the doors slid open automatically, to reveal an empty room. Now, Buck thought, this could be considered as a sign, that he wasn't supposed to talk to him. Should he go back to his ODSTs, or find John? He wanted to know what had happened, he wanted to see if anything could be done to try and fix John and Renee's relationship, so off he went on a search for John.

He found him, along with the Spartans and Dr. Halsey, in the cafeteria. The moment Buck walked in, though, he realized he was interrupting some sort of a meeting or a reunion, for everyone turned to look at him and the room fell silent. Buck was going to salute, but didn't bother, sensing the casualness of the Spartans. On the table around which they sat, plates that had once been filled with food lay piled.

"John," Buck said, folding his arms behind his back, and fixed his eyes on the largest Spartan of the group, seated between the Doctor and the red-headed one, "May I have a word with you for a moment, please?"

John rose from the table wordlessly, his face an expression of chiseled stone. Brows furrowed, eyes slightly narrowed, mouth firm, the massive man of 6'10" quickly made his way towards Buck, stopping two feet away from him.

"Yes?" John questioned.

"A word, in private?" Buck added.

A slight change of expression on John's features at this remark, his face darkened. But he gestured ahead of him almost stiffly:

"After you, Sergeant."

Buck waited until they were both out in the hallway and the door to the cafeteria had closed behind John. John stared at him expectedly, as if a couple moments silence wasn't quick enough for him. _Get to the point_, his expression read.

"I'm aware of your argument with Renee," Buck started, "And I'm also aware that your relationship with her…"

"Is none of your business," John was quick to interrupt, and almost just as quick to turn away from him and towards the door of the cafeteria. Buck, however, wasn't about to let this be the end of their conversation.

"Wait, listen to me. I'm not trying to pry," he told the Spartan, and although he didn't look at all convinced, paused and turned back to face him. At least John was listening… for the time being. Buck could sense his time may be very short, so he continued, "I'm only confronting you because I'm concerned. My ODSTs and I heard the screaming coming from your room."

John rolled his shoulders in a light shrug, his expression contrasting – dark and irritated.

"You, concerned?" he seemed cynically amused, "About my relationship? That's…" he paused to let out a deep chuckle, "Amusing."

"I'm serious. Perhaps you're not, but I am. Renee is deeply upset, as you may already know. Whatever happened, she regrets it."

"Huh," John scoffed to himself, nodding. Folding his arms on his chest, he met Buck's eyes, but said nothing more.

"I think it would be best if you just went and talked…"

"If you have come here as her messenger," John once again interrupted, pointing a finger at Buck's chest, "It would be wise to shut up now. Don't try to tell me to talk to her; you don't know anything about what happened, besides what you heard her say."

Buck couldn't help but notice the way John spoke of Renee, not even using her name. Just "her", and the word was said in such an icy tone, laced with underlying maliciousness that made Buck wonder if this was the same John that had, not several weeks ago, been unable to leave Renee's side.

"I've come here on my own behalf," he replied smoothly, "So you can rest assured. I don't act as a messenger. I'm simply here, to try and understand what exactly happened."

"She lashed out at me, unexpectedly. That's what you and your ODSTs heard," John explained in a relatively cynical monotone, "Told me she never wished to speak to me again, hit me, acted crazy. Don't pity her crying; she was always weak when it came to emotions. She just is realizing what I realized and accepted a long time ago."

"And what's that?" As Buck asked this, he was in rather disbelief of John's attitude. He hadn't known John for more than a month, but he knew that the Spartan had changed, and not necessarily for the better.

"Don't act so stupid," John snapped, and to him personally, that was justified perfectly as the right answer to the question he'd been asked.

"I just don't completely understand."

"You don't have to." The Spartan was become curter with each response, and his expression on his face was uncomfortable, irritated; like he wanted to avoid this completely. Buck was sure that he did, but he wasn't done with him, not just yet.

"You and Renee, you used to be so infatuated with each other," Buck knew as soon as he started, he wouldn't get far. And he was right. Hearing this, John shook his head in disinterest, a smirk coming on his face. Buck tried his best to get out as much as he could, "This mission tore you two apart like a goddamn grenade! And for what? Think about it! What are you two fighting over? Your differences? They were there all along!"

John turned away from Buck, declaring:

"This conversation is done."

"You two were different since the moment you met, dammit!" Buck called after John as he walked towards the doors, "This ain't breaking news!"

John walked into the cafeteria, the doors shutting behind him, leaving Buck standing alone in the hallway. Buck let out a sigh, knowing he didn't get very far. It was too late now, he realized, Renee was probably already frozen. He hadn't succeeded in anything. He remembered what Renee had told him: it would do no good. She had been right. He should've believed her; after all, she knew John better than he did.

However, he was still baffled; baffled that the couple, who once hadn't been able to stay away from each other, was now torn apart. What was worse was that although at first, Renee had seemed harsh towards John, within minutes she had spilled out the truth – which was that she loved him and didn't want to be without him. John, on the other hand, didn't seem willing to forget or forgive.

And Buck knew that he had no leverage in this situation. To John, he was an ODST, a member of the team in his holy mission to search for the Spartans. And now that they were found, his interest in him had disappeared. John wouldn't open up to him, anyway, not about this situation.

It was obvious that this situation's resolution didn't seem to be anywhere in the near future, if it were in the future at all. Buck wished he could do more to try and help, but knew it was now out of his hands, if it ever had been in them to begin with.

It was solely up to them now: Cold, battle-hardened John and the little marine who loved him and always would.

**A/N: **Leaving this at a cliffhanger of sorts. I wanted to update before I left on my trip to Europe. Hope you enjoyed it (although I'm not sure 'enjoy' would be the word I'm looking for), but you know what I'm saying. – AB.


	29. Contemplations

**Chapter 29: Contemplations**

**September 21st, 2553 – UNSC **_**Midnight Sun **_**– Day 3 in Slipspace **

Elsie walked down the hallway, her features set in a determined arrangement. Her blonde hair was slightly tousled. She had come from the gym, where, in company of Rookie and Dutch, she learned some very interesting information; information that she was now going to investigate and check the sources to peer into the question of its truth.

The atmosphere aboard the _Midnight Sun_ had somewhat quieted down, and there seemed to be a tension that had been in the air for the last couple of days, and now Elsie could make an adequate guess as to why. She was on her way to find John, whom she had seen little of since they had entered the Slipspace jump. She had been spending time with her Spartan III's, and he doing the same with his Spartan II's, but it was unusual to not hear something or another from John. And she had seen nor heard nothing of Renee – until now.

She wasn't sure how to react when Dutch told her that Renee had gone into cryo-sleep, and ever-silent Rookie had nodded in supportive confirmation. At first, it had hit her as something unexpected, but then she began to consider the goings-on between Renee and John for the past little while, and realized something must have happened. She was going to ask Dutch, but decided against it, and later decided she would go ask John.

"There you are," Elsie announced, walking into John's room, seeing him sitting on his bed with his data pad. Not expecting her visit, John jumped, his head shooting up. In his surprise, he dropped his data pad, but caught it in a blur before it could come close to the floor. A look of slight irritation crossed his features, but he got to his feet.

"Elsie," he said, "You looking for me?"

For a moment, Elsie didn't speak. She was too preoccupied by John's appearance. He almost looked sickly, with dark circles beneath his eyes, and his face was pallor. Was John ill? Maybe this is why she hadn't seen a lot of him lately.

"You alright?" she asked, "You're looking pretty rough."

"I'm just tired," John blew it off. He decided against standing and lowered himself back down onto his bed. Putting his data pad in his pocket, he then sighed and let his head droop forward.

"I learned something today and I came to ask you if it's true," Elsie wasn't about to beat around the bush, "I'm pretty sure you can confirm or deny it for me." She paused, to watch John raise his head slightly in order to make narrowed eye contact with her. She continued, "I heard that Renee is in cryo-sleep. True?"

John nodded his head once, his expression changing none. Elsie, waiting for more of a response, realized she wasn't going to get one, so she continued once more:

"Why?"

"It's for the best," John said simply.

"What happened between you two?" Elsie pried.

"I said, it's for the best."

Elsie let out a little sigh, but realized she wasn't going to get more from him. John wouldn't elaborate. She would have to go back asking the ODSTs if she wanted to know more. However, she sensed the negativity ebbing from John and realized whatever happened must be of considerable seriousness. For the last while, she had been so caught up reuniting with her Spartan III's, she had half forgotten about John, Renee and the ODSTs, and hadn't talked to any of them until earlier today, when by chance she had run into the others in the gym.

In a split-second, Elsie decided to change the conversation entirely.

"It's good to be back with our Spartans, isn't it?" she asked.

A small smile spread its way onto John's lips, but there was something about it that looked forced. He nodded in agreement, allowing a little peek of emotion to surface on his features; but other than that, John-117 didn't seem willing to have a conversation. This was why he was off on his own, Elsie realized. She felt slightly frustrated, for ever since she first met John, there seemed to be always something about him, that he was fighting an internal battle with himself. A man of few words, even to her, there was much about him that no one knew; so much remained in his thoughts and memories. With John, it was much like placing a locked chest in front of someone, but not giving them the key. One could guess and ponder what was inside, but could never be sure. It was never clear.

Elsie said her goodbyes to John and left him with his thoughts, with no more information than she had when she went in. John had shut himself off, and there was no getting through, not today, at least. Something was bothering him, no doubt about that. It had to do, without a second guess, with Renee. The little marine had disappeared into cryo without as much as a word to anyone, and her absence was eerily noticeable. An entire mystery had been created aboard the ship within just forty-eight hours. Little was known as to what happened. The one with the most information, Elsie was told, was Buck, and of course John. Elsie, however, wasn't one to bother with things for too long. John didn't want her to know about it, so she wasn't going to poke around. Her research was done; she had come up empty and wouldn't think much more about it.

Rejoining with her Spartan III's in the cafeteria, Elsie had tried to be of support to John, but was rejected, so this is where her concern would end. She'd keep an eye on him, she decided, but she was sure that if John wouldn't tell her of his problems, a fellow Spartan, he wouldn't tell anyone.

* * *

"I'm debating whether or not to enter cryo-sleep," mused Dr. Halsey. She was sitting on the bridge, alone except for Cortana on her holographic panel. Lyons and Dare had both gone to rest. Cortana was having no issues maintaining the ship by herself, in fact, she had mentioned a little earlier that she preferred, at times, no human interference. Dr. Halsey, however, was a mother to Cortana, and the two, so alike, chatted back and forth. The bridge smelled strongly of freshly brewed coffee, thanks to the steaming mug Dr. Halsey clutched in her hands. She relished it, having been without coffee for the longest time.

"There is no coffee in cryo-sleep," Cortana answered smartly, "Though, the option is easily open, if you so wish to act on it."

Halsey sighed, taking a mouthful of the coffee, savoring the taste for a moment. Looking thoughtful, she decided, "I won't, at least not today." A pause, "Cortana, has anyone else chosen to go into cryo?"

"Cryotube I in Cryo A is in use, yes. Just let me check the stats… Sergeant Kilburn."

The name immediately sparked a wave of memories in Dr. Halsey's mind. Renee Kilburn, the girl John had fallen in love with years ago. The girl, who, the last time she'd seen her, had been comatose. She must have awoken from her coma. Yet Dr. Halsey hadn't even seen her aboard. How strange, in '35, the girl had almost never left John's side. To think, she was aboard this very ship, with John, but in cryo-sleep! That's when she realized that John hadn't mentioned her name. Not a word about her. Then Dr. Halsey began doubting, Renee had been a Corporal. Maybe it wasn't her at all.

"Pull up Sergeant Kilburn's file, would you, Cortana?" Dr. Halsey asked softly, with interest. Within a blink of an eye, the file was in front of her on the holographic screen. The name and the face she immediately recognized. It was Renee. Skimming over the information, Dr. Halsey paused to look at the picture. Taken August of this year, it was, without a doubt, the same girl. However, something about her had changed. Her face was more serious. Well, Halsey thought quickly, it has been years. Reading more information, Halsey caught up on this marine who had captured the heart of a Spartan.

"Has John ever mentioned this girl to you, Cortana?"

"No," Cortana answered, "He hasn't. Why?"

"She's a significant person from his past…" said Halsey thoughtfully, "Very significant." Taking her coffee as she got to her feet, "I'll be back, Cortana, I'm going to find John."

* * *

Much to her surprise, Dr. Halsey came across John by accident. But where she found him, didn't entirely come as much of a shock. She had been passing by Cryo A, and the automatic doors were open. That's when out of the corner of her eye, she spotted a familiar figure, standing motionless by one of the cryotubes. His back was to her, but she had no problem distinguishing Spartan-117. Pausing in the doorway, Dr. Halsey waited for John to turn, to sense her presence, but he didn't. She took this moment to observe him. He was simply staring at the cryotube, without a doubt the one Renee was in. That's when she understood there was a whole story she didn't know.

Halsey took a step forward into the room. The footstep, although not loud to the average human ear, didn't escape John's hearing. In a blur, he whipped around – and froze. The expression portrayed on his face was a mixture of surprise and guilt - like a child caught with their hand in the cookie jar.

For the longest time, John just looked at her, with her coffee in hand. He didn't move, he didn't say a word; but he knew he didn't have to.

"Tell me what's going on." Halsey said softly.

"This was the hardest thing I've ever had to do," John said simply, not moving an inch. His struggle with his expression almost pained Dr. Halsey. She walked closer to him, crossing the space of the large cryo bay.

"What was, John?"

"This." He said again. His voice sounded far off, lost. He lifted his arm ever so slightly to make a gesture to the cryotube. As Dr. Halsey got close, she could see, through the frosted glass, Renee, in a sound sleep. Glancing up to John, she saw he was now staring at the floor, as if he wasn't able to look into the cryotube. For a moment, Halsey was thrown off. What did he mean?

As if he felt her accusing gaze, John met her eyes, and began defensively,

"It's for the best, it truly is, Dr. Halsey. I've tried to think of alternatives, I've tried to think of ways around it, but there just isn't a way. We are two very different people. I can't ask her to stay and serve with me, it's not in her. Just as being a civilian is not in me." He took a breath, "So much has changed, I've seen so much, this whole war has been hell. There's so much to tell you. As soon as the war ended I came back to Earth, I resigned, hoping to live a civilian life with Renee. Not even two weeks later, I was diagnosed with PTSD. I was so messed up, so messed up. I didn't fit in and even with the pills they gave me, I never felt right. As much as the war was hell, a part of me wanted to be back in the UNSC. Then, Cortana picked up the message from Kelly and immediately I rejoined to come search for you and my team. I never wanted Renee to come with me, but she did. I can see plainly now her heart was never in it. She never rejoined because she loved being a marine. She rejoined so she could stay with me. I can tell that she doesn't like it, this life, and I'm not going to ask her to stay any longer. She wants me to come home with her, but I think she knows that it's not what I want." He paused, "We argued… and now she's in there." The anguished look on John's face was pitiful as he glanced over his shoulder to the cryotube. As quick as it came, however, it hardened.

"You never were one to give up," Dr. Halsey said after a moment, "Why now?"

"There's a difference between giving up on a battle that can still be fought, and laying down your arms when a battle has already been lost."

"Are you certain it's been lost? Forgive me, but the differences you and Renee shared were what made you special; were what you loved about one another. I would not give up, yet, John."

"I've been in many battles, Doctor, and I know that this one…"

"This is not a battle. This is a disagreement. A big difference exists between the two. You need time to think. I know you almost as well as you do. Think, John. Think long and hard. I remember when you first came to me, when you were so young. You were confused about the feelings that you had for that girl," Dr. Halsey gestured to the cryotube, but John kept his eyes downcast. "Look at her, John." Despite her aging looks and her calm appearance, the voice that came from Halsey next was a sharp order, "Look at her!"

John's head snapped up, and he met Halsey's eyes first, with a fierce intensity, almost daring in manner. After what seemed like minutes, his gaze fell onto the cryotube, and Renee within it.

"Look at her, then look me straight in the face and tell me you no longer care for her, do it."

John, almost immediately, shook his head.

"Do it!"

"I can't!" it was almost inaudible.

"Do it!"

"I CAN'T!" John bellowed, wheeling away both from the cryotube and the doctor, "I can't, Dr. Halsey."

"My point has been proven," Dr. Halsey stood her ground, taking a sip of coffee, watching John as he tried to compose himself. The best way he knew how, was covering his face with his hands. His shoulders heaved with each deep breath. He wouldn't look at her.

"All you've done is forgotten, you've become so focused on what is instinctive to you. I remember there was once a time where we wished you would forget about Renee and focus more on what you had to do. Now it's the other way around. Cortana has filled me in on what you have been through to end this war John, and I know it was no walk in the park. You took the entire responsibility of keeping mankind alive on your shoulders, and at the end, it was on your shoulders alone. I understand what you have done. For one soldier, it is remarkable; yet, I expected no less from you. You were born to win. Sometimes I still see you as that dirty-faced little boy on the playground, the boy who came right up to me and shook my hand and told me his name. Fearless even then, it pains me to see you like this now. You've overcome every problem that was ever thrown your way. Don't let this be your first time to lose, John, then you'll realize how easy it is. Anyone can give up, anyone can lose – but it takes courage to win. Not everyone has what it takes to win. You do. So come out on the other side of this not just glorious, but most of all, happy."

John pivoted slightly, leaning against an unused cryotube, his eyes downcast. The muscles in his jaw twitched as he clenched and unclenched them. It was clear to see he was mulling over Dr. Halsey's wise words and letting their meaning soak in. He realized then, it was her guidance that he had been missing. He was much an adult, much capable of making his own decisions, but when it came to feelings, Dr. Halsey had always been there to help him out. A momentary wave of positivity washed over John, but it felt too optimistic for his liking. He just wasn't able to see how this would get better. The die had been cast and the odds were against him. However, how many times previously had he found himself in situations with staggeringly bad odds? Too many to count. Upon this realization, slight hope was raised.

"I will try, Dr. Halsey," he finally said, taking a moment before meeting her eyes. Even as old she was now, her eyes carried nothing to portray her age. She still had guts to stand up to her strongest Spartan, who in a way was very much like her own son.

"Walk with me, John," instructed the Doctor. He obliged, and the two of them left the cryo bay, at a lazy pace. For a while, their footsteps in the empty hallway was all that could be heard. Dr. Halsey would sip at her coffee every once and a while, and John just kept walking like an automaton beside her. Finally, after giving her words a bit of thought, Halsey spoke:

"It's too early to know how things will play out. We don't know what will happen tomorrow, let alone two weeks from now. It's unknown what positions will be offered to your Spartans, there is no war for them to fight. No war for _you_ to fight."

"They wouldn't put us in the ONI, would they?" demanded John instantaneously.

"That I don't know. Maybe, maybe not, it is all uncertain. I will do my best to see that you're all taken good care of." Halsey paused momentarily, "What of rebel activities? Focus on them dwindled drastically since the beginning of the war, most heavily in the last few years."

"My guess would be the most of them are dead," John shrugged indifferently; "I know a few groups tried to develop trading with the Jackals, but that changed nothing. They were still humans and they were still Covenant. Whatever's left of the Insurrectionists, they're low on intel, low on weapons and are scattered throughout the galaxy. We discovered a rebel group based on one of the planets in the Zeta Doradus system." John seemed better talking now that the subject had left Renee, "Hostilities towards us caused us to eliminate them; we gathered some information from them. I'm sure if you inquire about it to Cortana, she'll show you more."

"I'll do that, yes," she nodded.

A moment passed where they walked in silence until Halsey picked the conversation up once more.

"How is it to be reunited with your Spartans?" she asked.

"It's relieving, for a while I thought I was the only one left," John answered, but a certain amount of monotone remained in his voice, "It's nice to see them alive and well."

"I want you to take care of yourself, John," Dr. Halsey stated, "I haven't seen much of you since the other day, and I'm assuming neither have your Spartans. They've all missed you, they want to spend time with you. My best guess is that you've been in your room. At times, your mind can be your worst enemy. Not always is it best to stay alone in a room with just your thoughts." She paused thoughtfully for a moment, "You mentioned you had been diagnosed with PTSD upon your return to Earth."

John nodded curtly.

"How have you been lately in concerns with that?"

"Ran out of my prescription a while ago," John shrugged, "But it doesn't bother me like it did, ma'am. I used to have flashbacks and nightmares, it was impairing my life. Not now, though."

"PTSD symptoms tend to fade and even disappear when you go back into the environment that caused you to acquire the condition," Halsey said, "And that, going back into action, I mean, hasn't hindered you any?"

"No. I'm a Spartan. It was like stepping back into a comfort zone."

"I'm sorry that military life has to be your comfort zone," she said regrettably.

"I'm not."

Not expecting this response, Dr. Halsey was silenced for a moment. She thought back to how John had been in mid 2552, before the incident on Reach. He was so different now. As much as he tried to hide it, it wasn't hard to tell that John had his fair share of burdens, most of them due to events of the last couple years. He was forty-something now, Halsey noted, like the others - early forties, varying depending on birth months. For someone of his age, he had been through hell of a lot, and to think he was just middle-aged was bothersome. Someone like John could become easily bored, much like a dog if it isn't taken for daily walks or given attention. Dr. Halsey realized the importance of keeping John occupied with jobs adequate to his training and experience, and she would have to reinforce this when they got back to the UNSC HQ on Earth. The same went for the other Spartans, too. She knew being assigned to an office room in the ONI would be hell for any of them. It would be critical to see they were kept out on the field, perhaps in little peacekeeping activities, search and rescue, and the cleaning up of whatever Insurrectionist groups in the galaxy.

It was predictable now, that the Human-Covenant war was over – which had devastated and destroyed the majority of human colonies and a vast number of the human population, that humanity and the UNSC would now fall into a dormant period, so unusual in its nature that Dr. Halsey was unable to remember in her lifetime when UNSC and her colonies had been at "peace". True "peace" could be traced back to the early twentieth centuries, with the advancement of technologies, formation of the UNSC, colonization of different planets and increased funding to space exploration – a relative boom that preoccupied humanity in the late twenty-first and early twenty-second centuries and continued forth until the middle and later years of the 2400s. During this time the initiation of the Inner Colony wars with the Insurrectionists preoccupied the focus of the UNSC and was a cause of civil unrest and conflicts for the longest time. Then, of course came the first contacts with Covenant on Harvest, and then the rest was history.

The peace that was to envelop humanity would be wonderfully appreciated by civilians, for the last three to four generations of humanity knew little of peace; but those in the UNSC, and John and his Spartans, would be lost without conflict. There was bound to be some, Halsey pondered, but nothing compared to what had been going on for the last thirty years, nothing compared to what her Spartans knew and grew up with. She wondered if John realized this.

"How different was it on Earth?" she asked him, "On the short time you spent there."

"Most recently? Strangely peaceful. Unfamiliar," John seemed gloomy, "But, the most vivid memories I have of Earth is the glassing of New Mombasa and the hell that happened afterwards, so of course anything other than that would seem different."

"You realize that is how things will most likely remain. Peaceful; and I'm not just talking about Earth."

"Is there anything left besides Earth?" John asked rhetorically, cynicism evident in his voice, "Scorched rocks are all that remain of our colonies now; we're back to square one and left to recover for the next conflict."

"You see John," Halsey sighed softly, "I don't think there will _be_ a next conflict; at least not for a long time to come."

She watched John's face try to comprehend her words, and instantly she saw him struggle with it as if she had spoken a dead language to him. He met her eyes curiously, almost in disbelief.

"Then, what are we, what am I…" he began, but stopped, overwhelmed with the sudden realization.

"I never thought a day would come where Spartans weren't needed," Dr. Halsey said with difficulty, "But it's on the horizon. If the top brass of the UNSC haven't realized it yet, they will. I promise you I will do everything in my power to see that you and your team, as well as the Spartan IIIs are kept preoccupied."

"So we're to be cast aside?" John asked, "Like outdated weaponry? We saved humanity from destruction, many of us died so that others could live – and now we're going to be just forgotten because it's peaceful now?"

"My guess would be they start cutting funding to the program," Halsey wasn't going to keep the truth from John, "Updates and improvements to armor would be stopped. Research would be halted – and not just for the II's, but the III's as well."

John shook his head in disbelief.

"Does Lord Hood know this? He could…" John paused when he saw the look on Dr. Halsey's face portraying the answer.

"That's why he let you retire, John," she said quietly, "The UNSC would never have approved it if they thought there was still need for your services. Spartans are UNSC personnel for life, or they're supposed to be, unless there is no further…"

"… Need for us." John finished, nodding, appearing somewhat dazed, "Have you told the others?"

"No." Halsey shook her head, "I plan to. Or you can, if you wish."

"It'd destroy any morale they have left."

"You're saying let them go unawares?"

"For now, ma'am. They would have to be told at the right time, whenever that could be. How is there ever a right time for news like that? There isn't."

"In a way, you know them better than I do," Dr. Halsey said quietly, "I'll let you decide when." There was a pause, "When we get back to Earth, inform Renee of this, John. Perhaps she'll understand your situation better. She cares about you more than you know, and if there's someone you can have to talk to, and to listen, it's her."

"I can talk to you, ma'am," John seemed instantly upset that she brought up Renee again, "You listen to me, and you actually_ understand_. All that Renee can think of now, is her civilian life… she's a civilian and…"

"What am I?" Dr. Halsey asked, pausing for a moment for John to realize before continuing, "A doctor, but a civilian doctor. Besides being the backbone in the creation of the Spartan II program, I really have no ties to the UNSC."

"Yes, but…"

"No. Don't argue. You just want to accept that it's over between you and Renee because it's easier than taking that bumpy, winding, war-torn road in order to try and fix your problems. I understand you have more burdens than everyone on this ship put together. If you want to get one of those burdens off your shoulders, I want you in the cryo-bay when Renee wakes up. I want you to talk to her; I want you to explain to her what she needs to know. It's not impossible for you to have a future with her."

"Do I even have a future?" John asked thoughtfully, "If Spartans really have no purpose anymore?"

"This is where you would take the chance to do what you wanted when you were younger," Dr. Halsey said, "Live a life with Renee, a life without war."

"I tried."

"You tried, for how long?" Dr. Halsey asked, "A month? When you were plagued with symptoms of PTSD and on mentally-altering drugs? When you were fresh from the war and worried about your Spartans and I?"

"How would it be any different? The symptoms would come back; I'd still be on the drugs."

"Sometimes you're too damn cynical for your own good," Dr. Halsey said sternly, "Just think about this conversation, long and hard," she glanced down at the mug in her hand, "My coffee's gone cold, so I'm going to make another cup. I'll be on the bridge with Cortana if you need to find me."

With that, the silver-haired doctor left John in the hallway, left him with indeed a lot to ponder.

* * *

Halsey walked into the cafeteria, making a b-line towards the coffee machine, but not without noticing the Spartan II's and the ODSTs sitting around the same table. Odd mixture, she thought. She was greeted with unfamiliar looks from the troopers, but her II's gave her friendly hellos.

"Doctor!" Kelly said, "Refilling up on coffee?"

"Yes," Halsey smirked guiltily as she reached for the coffee pot.

"Isn't that your fifth today?" Frederic joked. He was balancing a knife on one finger. Where he'd gotten it from, who knew.

Dr. Halsey gave him a little smile as she filled her cup and put in her usual, a couple drops of cream and a pinch of sugar. On some days she felt the need for more sugar for that extra little oomph, and she hesitated, holding the package of sugar over the cup, having already put in the usual amount. Her conversation with John had somewhat exhausted her mentally. Without giving it another thought, she emptied the packet into the coffee and stirred it. Cupping the once-again hot mug in both hands, she turned to face the unexpected merged group of her Spartan IIs and the ODSTs.

It was somewhat unfamiliar to see her Spartans without their armor. For the majority of the time they'd been trapped in the Dyson sphere, they had kept their armor on. Now, they were all sitting at the table in standard issue fatigues. Frederic had shaved and gotten a haircut. Linda, who's fire-red hair had once sprawled down over her shoulders due to the lack of facilities and the time to cut it, had finally chopped it all off, to almost rival the length of Frederic's. It was a simple cut. However short, the extreme color of her hair and the bright green of her eyes contrasted strongly with her white complexion. Kelly, who was slouched in her chair and looking tired, had her brown hair – which had once been of a boyish length but had grown out over time – pulled into a ponytail in the back of her neck. Like Linda, Kelly had little to no regard to her physical appearance or styling of her hair. The Spartans just made sure they were clean and their uniforms proper.

"Were you speaking to John?" Linda asked softly, shifting in her chair so she faced more towards Dr. Halsey, "We haven't seen much of him lately, and we'd like to."

"Yes," Dr. Halsey answered, "He is just exhausted, and troubled. He carries a heavy burden on his shoulders, as you may have already realized."

"He's not quite the same," Kelly remarked with a sigh, "But really, are any of us?"

"We've all changed, no doubt about that," Buck spoke up, causing the three Spartans and Halsey to look at him, almost with unexpected expressions. He'd come up with the idea along with Dutch, Mickey, Romeo and Rookie to join the Spartan IIs at their table. It was a daring move, and Romeo in particular had been against it. None of them had really forgotten the little song they had sung about going home to where no Spartans roamed, but Buck had encouraged his men to at least bridge the gap and attempt at being civil. The Spartans, however, were friendly in a mute, reserved way, much like John, but seemed less negative despite the situation they'd been in. It was hard to tell what their true opinion of him and his men was, for they were masters at expressing little on their faces or in their voices. Frederic made Buck slightly nervous, the way he favored the knife he'd kept from his lunch and spent time twirling it, flipping it, catching it as if it were a ball and not a sharp blade. In a way, however, it was almost fascinating, for there was something unnatural about the way he moved. All the Spartans seemed to have concise, quick, and graceful movements that were almost too irregular to appear real.

"How have _you_ changed?" inquired Kelly, her voice low yet possessing a harsh power, "Try experiencing something like Reach and see how you change then."

"Kelly…" Dr. Halsey scolded with a whisper.

"I have," Buck replied, not fazed by Kelly's sudden change of attitude, "I fought on Reach just like you did." Upon saying this, he watched not only Kelly's expressions, but Frederic's and Linda's as well, change.

Kelly didn't say any more, she let her head rest on her hand and kept her eyes downcast. This submission caused a silence to fall throughout the room. It was broken, however, when Frederic jabbed the knife into the table top, a sudden harsh move. However, he pulled it out, twirled it on his fingers like it was nothing, then finally set it down on the table and let it be.

"Are you aware of what happened on Reach, Sergeant?" Frederic asked, meeting Buck's eyes, "To us?"

"I've heard, yes," Buck gave a nod, "It was a terrible loss. I can't imagine what that would be like." Buck gave a glance around to his ODSTs. Dutch, Mickey and Romeo were, for once like Rookie – deathly silent. The tension in the air could be cut with a knife and it wasn't hard to tell that his ODSTs could sense it. Mickey surprised him, however, by speaking:

"So what do you do?" Mickey asked, looking first at Frederic, "You seem to favor that knife. You fight with knives?"

Frederic, not expecting this sudden change of conversation, was momentarily thrown off. But he nodded.

"That's neat, I always thought Spartans just rocked the guns," Mick looked to Kelly, "And what about you, what's your specialty?"

"Speed," Kelly answered hesitantly.

"So you're fast, I suppose you're a scout, then?" he didn't wait for a confirmation, before looking to Linda, "And you? Wait, wait, wait, let me guess… you're a…"

"Sniper," Linda said flatly, not waiting for him to guess.

"Ah, a sniper," Mickey grinned, "Well I suppose when you're all with John you're quite the team. One of ya's fast, the other loves knives, one can snipe, and John, he's just the big tough guy, eh?" He let out a laugh, but was alone in his laughter. The Spartans expressions remained unchanged. He finally looked to Dr. Halsey, who had been listening with coffee in hand this whole time, "And you, ma'am? Are you a Spartan tech or something?"

"A Doctor, actually," she spoke up, "Dr. Catherine Halsey; Pleased to meet you and your troopers."

"Likewise," Mickey grinned, "What kind of doc are you?"

"Civilian, technically," Dr. Halsey answered calmly, "But I had a large part in organizing the Spartan II program; I've known my Spartans since they were children."

"Hope they weren't too bratty for ya," Romeo joked.

Dr. Halsey let out a slight chuckle, but the Spartans of course had little to no reactions. Buck, sitting beside Romeo, felt that his and Mickey's approach wasn't working. For the Doctor, maybe, she seemed to be relatively down to Earth, but those Spartans wouldn't laugh for all the money in the world, let alone crack a smile. He suddenly realized that a bridge couldn't be formed between ODSTs and these Spartans. They seemed too reserved, too troubled, too serious. Ah well, at least he could say they tried.

However, Kelly surprised him.

"Sergeant, tell us more about your campaign on Reach," she said suddenly, seeming legitimately _interested_. Considering her sudden negativity before, Buck jumped on this option to speak. Although the memories weren't particularly pleasant, he explained in great detail his campaign on Reach and what had happened. The Spartans listened, occasionally asking a question. They seemed highly empathetic towards the subject, and from what Buck had heard of their own campaign on Reach, it was no wonder why. It had been nothing short of a massacre.

It made some sense to Buck then, why John was the way he was. Not only had he gone through Reach, but the whole endeavor of ending the war, an epic in itself that even now, was hard to wrap your head around. What John did just on his own, what he experienced, was staggering in its entirety.

What Buck still couldn't understand, however, was why John was rejecting Renee. He felt bad for her when she had gone into cryo. It seemed that he really meant the world to her, and to have him suddenly disregard her must've crushed her. Renee was there for John whenever she could be; she tried her best to understand him and to help him, to comfort him. Why John wanted to turn a cold shoulder to her love and her comfort, especially after all this time, it made little sense.

He only hoped that it would take a turn for the best, whatever that may be. But for all he knew, it might have already had.

**A/N: **I updated! Sorry about taking so long, it's been a busy past two months. Coming back from my trip to Europe (which was an amazing experience, if I do say so myself), and focusing heavily on my last couple of months in school, but here it is, the chapter. I hope you all enjoy it as usual. - AB


	30. Lingering Uncertainties

**Chapter 30: Lingering Uncertainties**

**October 5****th****, 2553 – **_**UNSC Midnight Sun **_**– Earth's Solar System; En Route to Earth**

John was lost in a dream. He lay on his bed in his room, flat on his back. His hands were clenched and his face was drenched in sweat; it gleamed from the overhead lights. Every now and then, he would toss his head one way, and then back the other. Beneath his closed lids his eyes could be seen moving rapidly, his breathing was deep, almost frantic.

His breaths heightened to a gasp, and from there, his terrified screams that would soon bring him from his dream world into conscious reality.

"Renee! Renee!"

Then, John awoke. He shot straight upwards into a sitting position, his eyes flying wide open. What followed was the eerie stillness, as he sat motionless with his hand clasped to his heaving chest, taking in his comforting surroundings that had been different from his dream. His dream now could be assessed from a conscious and realistic point of view; it gave way to an onslaught of thoughts and overwhelming disbelief, and at the same time, a comforting notion that it had been exactly that, a dream, and nothing else.

What was quick to follow was the realization of whom he'd called out for. The name he'd shouted, in hopes that she would be right there beside him to comfort him, like she had countless times before.

She wasn't.

John's brows furrowed, and he swung his legs over the side of the bed, and for a moment just sat there, staring at the floor. This wasn't the first time this had happened to him, in fact there had been dozens of occasions in the past three weeks just like this one, where he had dreamt of her, called out to her, only to awaken and realize where she was, and that she wouldn't be there to comfort him.

The past three weeks had been almost robotic, an unchanging schedule. John had associated with his Spartans, and on occasion the ODSTs, had meals, went to the gym, and slept. He kept mostly to himself. Since his conversation with Dr. Halsey, there had been a lot of thinking he'd done. Even then, the decision he needed to make didn't seem any easier.

Suddenly, Cortana's smooth voice came over the loud-speaker:

"_Attention all personnel, there is now approximately forty-five minutes remaining until atmospheric entry. I recommend that you finalize your things and be in standard-issue battle gear for entry and subsequent landing. We'll be docking at the Kennedy Space Center in approximately one hour. That is all."_

Right, John thought, remembering. She'd first made the announcement they were back in the Sol system an hour or so ago – but he had felt tired and had lain down to sleep. Forty-five minutes until they entered Earth's atmosphere? Three weeks going and coming back all of a sudden didn't seem like it had been a very long trip at all – but considering all that had happened in that time, it didn't seem like it had exactly flown by, either.

He got to his feet, and went over to his knapsack of things, and double-checked in his locker and under his bed to make sure he hadn't forgotten any of his belongings – but almost chuckled at it. It wasn't like he had many belongings anyway; his uniforms, one set of civilian clothes, a pair of sweats, hygiene items, his data pad and a couple pairs of shoes, socks and underwear completed his collection.

Grabbing his knapsack and throwing it over his shoulder, John left his room without making the bed or even closing the locker door. He made his way down the hallway and through several corridors towards the docking bay, passing several technicians and stewards on the way.

When he got to the docking bay, John spotted Mickey in a warthog – a warthog they never even used on the mission, he noted. He had the engine running, and the rest of the ODSTs were standing beside it, watching in amusement.

"Oh, I'm just givin' her a little rev-up, Buck, chill your bird," Mickey was saying as John approached, "All this equipment we never used! Thanks to the goddamn snow up to our chins on that friggin' planet. Dutch, grab a mongoose and let's take 'em on a quick rip around the docking bay. No one would ever know!"

"No, you're not," Buck scolded, "I know your driving skills." He glanced over his shoulder to see John approaching, and gave him a nod, "See the foolishness I'm dealing with?"

The other ODSTs, including Mickey, took note of John's presence, and all greeted him with "hellos" and subsequent waves. Mickey obeyed Buck's orders and reluctantly jumped out of the warthog.

"Well," he said, placing his hand on the hood of the vehicle, "What do you think, John? We've completed a successful mission and soon enough we'll find ourselves back on Earth."

"We should be proud," John answered, "Considering how we started off initially, we ended up being not too bad of a team. I'll see that you ODSTs are appropriately praised when I talk to Lord Hood."

"That isn't sarcasm, I hope," chuckled Buck.

"Not in a sarcastic mood, Sergeant," the Spartan gave him a small smile, "I'm being serious. You and your men did a good job – and you survived another three weeks awake in Slipspace."

"Ah, well, we figured, why sleep through it? You can sleep when you're dead," Buck gestured to John, "Follow me, I'll show you where you can put your bag. I went to the bridge not too long ago, Veronica's working with the AI to get contact with one of Earth's space stations – she said we were about in range, and that was a while ago; so I'm assuming we've gained contact and our missions' success has been reported." Buck stopped in front of a pile of knapsacks lying on the floor. Mickey's cat was there too in his cage, "There; we didn't bother with bein' neat, just drop it anywhere."

John set his bag down instead of dropping it to avoid scaring Brute. Straightening, he folded his arms on his chest and looked around the docking bay. The majority of supplies had been arranged neatly and it looked good for landing.

"So," Buck began, "Have you been by cryo?"

"Not yet," he shook his head, "Has the unfreezing begun?"

"I'd imagine, and she'd be about unfrozen too. Are you going to speak to her?"

"I'll attempt it," John looked solemn, "It's all I've been contemplating the last two weeks, and trying to speak to her can do no harm." He hesitated, gazing down at his feet, looking thoughtful; after a moment he met Buck's eyes, "I know I was rude to you three weeks ago when it all happened, and I shouldn't have been. I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize," Buck shrugged, "I've already forgiven you. I may have seemed intrusive but all I wanted to do was help."

"As much as I fear going to confront her, I know I have to do it now when she's here on ship," John confessed, "If she gets past me and out into the real world, I doubt I could find her if she didn't want to be found."

"You found her the first time," Buck pointed out, "But besides, when we walk off this ship, nobody is going anywhere until we get debriefed. Some of us may not be going home, but on other missions, perhaps. When Renee rejoined, I bet you anything she signed the same paper she signed when she first joined – a mandatory five-year service agreement. I don't think they'll be letting her go anywhere." He paused, glancing back at his ODSTs, who were pretending to act like they weren't trying their very best to listen in on their conversation. Giving them an incredulous look before turning his attention back to John, he raised his brows, "But yes; by all means Chief, do talk to her. I'll keep my fingers crossed for you." And with that, Buck extended his hand out to John to shake.

John glanced down, but without hesitance gave Buck a firm hand shake – noting with disbelief that just a month ago he would've sooner punched the ODST's lights out than shake hands with him. They had come a long way since then – all of them.

"Thank you," John said with a nod.

* * *

Renee slowly began to regain consciousness. She opened her eyes, and seeing the bright lights above, magnified through the cryo-tube's glass, quickly shut them again. She let out a sigh, waiting for the seals of the tube to hiss open. They did seconds later, and she was attacked by a rush of warm air, pleasant compared to the cold she knew she'd been in. Shrugging off the sleepiness, she sat up – although almost hesitant to leave the comfortable gel mould. She rubbed her eyes, and aware of her nakedness, went to reach for her clothes that she had left on the tray beside the cryo-tube when she'd gotten in three weeks ago, but to her surprise, a tank top and shorts were being already held out to her.

Startled, Renee met John's eyes. She saw him standing motionless above her, holding her clothes – and was flooded with the memories. Technically, he was the reason she had gone into cryo-sleep.

For the longest time, she just stared at him, until finally taking her clothes. Wordlessly, she got dressed, feeling John's eyes on her as she did. A million questions were running through her head and she felt tempted to just go back to sleep. Why was John here? What did he want to say? What could he say?

As Renee went to climb out of the cryo-tube, John took her arm gently.

"Let me help you," he said softly as she stepped out.

Renee grabbed her folded uniform off the table. As she began to climb into the one-piece getup, she said, without meeting John's eyes:

"What do you want?"

"I want to talk," he answered, "Properly this time."

Renee's mind was still hazy from cryo sleep; she felt almost groggy and it took her a moment to recollect the last conversation she'd had with him - how awful it'd been. She recalled how she'd reacted, she'd screamed and hit John, called him harsh names. Upon remembering, she was overcome with slight embarrassment and shame. Clenching and unclenching her jaw, Renee met his gaze fully, her eyes flashing an emotion she knew John could easily read.

"Talk," she said simply.

"I want you to know during our last conversation, I was emotion over reason," John told her, "Being a Spartan, I should've never let that happen. I was so uncertain about my future, not just my future with you but my future in the UNSC and I allowed the overload of emotion conceived by that uncertainty seep through into my words and actions. I want to apologize for that."

"As do I," quietly replied Renee, "I screamed; I called you names; I hit you. I shouldn't have."

"That is the past and we can't undo what was done and said. What matters right now is today, tomorrow and all the days after. Now, not much has changed since our last conversation – I know you probably still intend to leave the UNSC, and I won't try to convince you otherwise. My Spartans and I intend to stay…" he trailed off, and suddenly his face was overcome with emotion so readable it was like a picture book. He let out a sigh – he had tried to keep his mind off the uncertainty of his Spartans' future, "If we are allowed to stay…" he finally added in a small voice. John looked very much like a big child at the moment. He stood before her, his usually square shoulders rounded in defeat, his head bowed, and his expression looking almost sad.

"What do you mean?" Renee questioned.

"It appears that our usefulness has almost run its course," John heaved a deep breath, his expression hardening once more into one of frustration, "I never thought it; I never expected that it could ever be." He let out a mocking chuckle, "That they don't need us," he paused again, wiping the fake smile from his face, "It looks that Earth and her remaining colonies is on the verge of entering into a time of peace, the first in hundreds of years. They don't know if we'll be needed."

"Who told you this?" Bewilderment overcame Renee. The idea of total peace seemed almost strange, for most of her life there had been a war.

"Dr. Halsey," John shrugged, "Of course, this is her suspicion – but she wouldn't say it if she didn't think it was to happen; it makes enough sense. The Covenant are gone; we are allies with the Elites; the Ark is destroyed and the Flood and the Halo rings with it; the Insurrectionists have almost all died out along with the Covenant. What remains for Humanity to fight? What remains for we Spartans to do?"

It was a rhetorical answer, for the answer was so clear and obvious, to say it would almost seem dumb. Renee could hear the answer in her head. _Nothing. _

"It's ironic," John seemed overwhelmed, "That for all my life I was fighting for peace – and now that it seems we've finally achieved that, I don't know what to do. Besides your love and friendship, war is all I have ever known."

"Oh John," Renee sighed, feeling sympathy for him. She stepped forward and hugged him as tight as she could, resting her head against his chest. A second passed before he returned the hug, locking his big arms around her. Patting his back supportively, she murmured, "I'm sure everything will turn out fine. You have me, don't forget that."

At this moment, she realized then that she had never stopped loving John, and that she never would. The connection between them both was felt as she stood silently holding him tight to her. Even as she held him, she knew both of their futures were uncertain.

It was proved before that John didn't thrive well outside of the UNSC. Herself, well, she didn't exactly thrive in the UNSC, but she did well. She'd made it through basic training twice, and been promoted three ranks up with less than four years of service, but did she love being a marine? No, no she did not. War was an awful thing, and she had done her part, she had served Earth and her Colonies, she had nearly been killed. The war had taken more from her than it had given; it only brought her one good thing, and that was John. Taken from her forever was her innocence and the men and women she'd grown up or trained with – Troy in particular. The war was over, and she was glad for it. This mission was over, and she was glad for that too. Soon she'd find herself back on Earth and back home.

She thought of Amy, her best friend with her endless obscene jokes and obnoxious yet loveable personality, and realized how much she missed her. And, Renee almost forgot, Amy was pregnant. She must be at least two months along now, and this time, she could be there to support her, for she had been in a coma when Amy was pregnant with her son. Amy, her unborn child, Wayne and Troy were all waiting for her in Los Angeles. Her parents were too, who only learned of her rejoining of the UNSC through a text message hastily sent before Renee left California with John and Lord Hood. What would they have to say when she returned? Her mother had always thought Renee's, Amy's and Troy's fascination with joining the UNSC had been a passing fancy, but when they all joined up within a year of each other, she'd buried her head in the sand as to the reality of the war and was no doubt rattled that it was the path that her daughter and her friends chose – and from what Amy had told her, was absolutely grieved when she learned of Troy's death and when Renee had been sent home comatose. Her mother must have had a fit when she had received the message from Renee two months ago saying that she was joining up – again.

After waking up from her coma, Renee remembered what life had been like in the last months of the war. Fearing the Covenant attacks, feeling completely alone in her little house, rattled by the fact that eighteen years had passed her by – and most of all she remembered worrying for John, listening for every little piece of information she could about him, praying that he would survive. Then, the awful shock that came in March, when John was believed to be dead. How awful Renee had felt then, how lonely – and when John had showed up on her doorstep in July, she had been so happy to have him with her, even in the state he had been.

Furthermore, Renee remembered she had rejoined the UNSC in the first place so that she could be with John – the thought of being without him for a couple of months at the time seemed completely unbearable when she had been without him for eighteen years.

Now John was telling her his future in the UNSC was on the rocks, not just for him but for all the remaining Spartans. Well, that meant John could come home with her, after all! If the UNSC didn't need him anymore, John could be entirely hers!

"Just think John," she said, a smile coming to her face, "If it so happens that the UNSC doesn't need you anymore, you can come home with me after all! I mean, I will probably be getting out of here as quick as I can, but we can keep in touch 'til the time comes, right?"

"You don't understand," he sighed, holding her at arm's length, watching as her bright little face transformed into one of confusion, "I'm not so worried about myself, but about my Spartans. If the UNSC decides to cut the funding for the Spartan programs, we're screwed. We were _made_ to be Spartans, there is nothing else we would really be fit to do – and they have never tasted civilian life, aside from the six years as children, which I doubt any of them remember anymore. It's either that, or we could be offered jobs in the Office of Naval Intelligence, but look at me, look at us. Do we really look like we're built to sit behind desks?"

"I'm sure they could find you something to do," Renee brushed it off, "Don't be so pessimistic."

"See?" John sighed desperately, "You just don't understand, you're not a Spartan. You want to go back home to Amy and your family, and that's fine. I'm happy for you. You're not in our situation – you're the lucky one."

"I wish you all the best, then," Renee said solemnly, meeting his eyes, "I love you, I always have and I always will – but my heart pulls me towards home. It pains me to leave you, but it won't be forever. Everything happens for a reason. I'll miss you, we'll all miss you."

John looked at her for a long time, until finally making a move. He grabbed her face and pulled her lips to his, and they shared a kiss that lasted what seemed to be a long time. When it finally broke, John still held her inches away from his face, seeming reluctant to let her go.

"Come back to me when you can," she told him, "Whenever the time is right – I know you will come back to me."

All John could do was nod, hoping it was something he could eventually do.

* * *

The time finally came when the ship entered atmosphere and most of the personnel rendezvoused on the bridge for the turbulent ride to the surface. There was a certain air of relief among those on the bridge – relief that they had finally arrived home after a long yet successful mission. Several of the Spartans didn't show, however, but in attendance were John, Elsie, Kelly, the ODSTs, Dr. Halsey and Renee, with of course Dare, Lyons and Cortana.

"Fifteen minutes 'til we reach the Kennedy Space Station," Cortana announced coolly from her holographic panel. The AI was standing casually, her arms folded on her chest, head slightly tipped to one side. She was slowly shimmering from blue to purple and back again.

"You've done it once again," John told her. He was in his armor, with his helmet slung under his arm, and looked double his size. It made him stand out along with Kelly and Elsie, who also donned their armor.

"Just doing my job, John," Cortana gave him a little smile.

It was John's first words since he had arrived on the bridge. As he stood comfortably in his armor, he couldn't help but think this might be one of the last times he would wear it. The uncertainty of the Spartans' future was weighing him down, and it got worse as they approached Earth. There, he knew, Lord Hood and orders from the top would be waiting. The military futures for everyone aboard were to be decided right then and there.

He glanced around the bridge to everyone, reading their expressions on their faces, and saw most of them were similar. They looked relieved.

Buck almost looked tired as he leaned against the furthest wall, arms crossed on his chest and his eyes at half mast. His fellow ODSTs bore a certain air of sleepiness as well, but were at various stages of alertness. John probably guessed most of them were wishing they'd spent the last three weeks in cryo-sleep, for it was finally starting to catch up with them. Renee, who had decided to do that route, looked wide awake and alert as she stood in between Buck and Mickey, dressed in standard-issue battle gear as ordered.

Despite their discussion in the cryo bay, Renee remained slightly distant from John afterwards; he guessed it was because she was trying her best not to think about spending time away from him again. Their fight three weeks ago, even though John found himself unable to hold any grudges against her, knew that it was still fresh in both of their minds.

John looked to Dr. Halsey, Captain Dare and Lieutenant Lyons, who were all seated at the control panel. Halsey, as always, had a cup of coffee in her hand and was sipping calmly at it. There was a moment of slightly rough turbulence, and John watched as Dr. Halsey calmly put her hand over the top of the cup to avoid it sloshing on her lap. Even after a year of being stuck in the Dyson Sphere, John could sense no extreme excitement from the Doctor about returning to Earth. He guessed that the issue about the Spartans' future was weighing heavily on her mind as well.

"The first thing I'm doing once we're debriefed," Dutch spoke up, "Is getting me an ice cold pint of beer."

This aroused a chuckle from mostly everyone, aside from Kelly and Elsie, who stood silently beside John.

"Ah, when I go home," Renee spoke up, "My best friend makes wicked strawberry-kiwi vodka cocktails – I'm asking her to make me one."

"Drinks at Lil Sarge's!" Mickey announced.

"Wide-o?" Buck asked her.

"I'll tell ya what," she laughed, "Anyone who was on this mission is welcome to come."

The ODSTs cheered – and the conversation was carried on between them and Renee merrily, almost becoming high on the idea of a chance to relax and socialize with a few drinks. John, who wanted nothing to do with alcohol since his first and last experience, felt happiness for them anyway. He saw Dare, Lyons and even Dr. Halsey crack a smile at their excitement.

John suddenly found himself envying the ODSTs, envying Renee, wishing, for possibly the very first time in his life, that he was a simple marine, not a Spartan. Surely not as much weight would have been put on his shoulders; he wouldn't be worrying as he was now, knowing that the Spartan programs were at risk of becoming null and void, and a thing of the past. The Spartans fighting the Covenant during the Battle of Reach would become a famous historical event, just like the original Spartans who fought thousands of Persians at the Battle of Thermopylae thousands of years ago. A tale, something to be written in history books to be taught in school. Is that what his Spartans would become?

A coppery taste filled John's mouth; he realized he had been biting on his lip so hard, he had drawn blood.

* * *

When the _Midnight Sun _docked in the Kennedy Space Center and its crew descended from the terminal, stepping off the ship for the first time weeks, they were greeted by many applauding UNSC members, including Lord Hood. There was a single news crew present to film the event, but no interviewers, and for that, John was thankful.

As he walked through the terminal into the bustling Space Center, armor-clad with his Spartans in tow, his knapsack of belongings slung over his shoulder, he knew he should be feeling pride as he passed the joyous personnel there to witness their return, but he could muster nothing other than a great deal of worry, which lay heavily in the pit of his stomach. There hadn't been so much as a word from his fellow Spartans since their arrival, and he knew they were anxiously waiting for their briefing, or debriefing – whatever it may be.

Behind him, the ODSTs and Renee left the terminal more merrily, giving a few waves here and there happily at the crowd that had come to see them. Mickey, carrying both his knapsack and Brute safely in his crate, let out a small whoop, followed by,

"We're home, baby!"

Buck, a grin on his face, shook his head, ushering his ODSTs onward.

The Spartans, the ODSTs, Renee, Dr. Halsey, and of course Captain Dare and Lieutenant Lyons all came to approach Lord Hood, who was waiting for them, dressed in his signature white uniform, breast full of medals.

"Sir," John stopped in front of him, giving him a salute, which all his Spartans behind him mirrored. His voice was muffled through his helmet.

"I knew you could do it, 117," Hood said simply with a smile, and he extended a hand out to John, which he took and shook promptly, "Good job."

In this moment, John took the opportunity to search Lord Hood's face for any underlying expressions that could be a dead giveaway to news on he and his Spartans' future – but found nothing. He wasn't sure to be comforted by this or not.

"Thank you, sir," he answered, "It's good to be back."

Lord Hood went on to shake hands and share words with his fellow Spartans, who, like John, were of few words. A hug was given to Dr. Halsey, who in this light, suddenly appeared old and brittle with her weathered face, grey hair and tattered lab-coat which, for whatever reason, she made no effort to replace. From there, Hood greeted Elsie and her team of Spartan III's; she led them well, John noted – a true born leader. It was easy to see how they looked up to her, too. The ODSTs and Renee, who remained grouped in with them, were next, receiving some handshakes and pats on shoulders – it varied. Finally, Lord Hood had a few quiet words with the Captain and the Lieutenant, shaking both their hands with a smile.

It all seemed happy and well, John observed – but what was all waiting for them? He shot a glance upwards to the floating robotic camera, as it whizzed about their heads, its eye whirring as it no doubt zoomed in and out to gain various shots required for the news. He hadn't missed this about Earth, he realized, the news, and how his face was no longer a secret. The little camera turned to him, floating fairly close to him, its eye staring him down as its hovering engine hissed to keep it in the air. John stared down the unblinking eye as it made sure to capture several seconds' footage of him, and he wondered if the footage would wind up on the nation-wide news.

Why had Lord Hood endorsed it, he wondered? He knew he hated cameras.

The camera, obviously satisfied, finally whirred away, and John wished seconds before he had snatched the annoying thing from the air and smashed it beneath his boot. Well, at least there was no chattering, bubbling reporters around – brandishing their mics as if they were weapons, eager to shove them in his face. That, John knew, he wouldn't have been able to tolerate.

He glanced over to Renee, looking bulky and awkward in her battle armor, as she posed in a group with the ODSTs for the little camera – it must be able to take pictures as well – a smile on her face as she crouched beside Rookie in the front row, one arm thrown about his shoulders as if they were great friends. Maybe they were, John realized, and he hadn't even noticed. When she had spent time with the ODSTs, John neglected to monitor Renee's behavior, and watching her now as she mingled with them, it was easy to see that she had formed an obvious companionship with them all.

_She'll be fine without you for a while, _a voice in his head suddenly blurted, _She's got the ODSTs, not to mention Amy and her family back home. She'll be just fine without you until – if – you return to her and her little house in the suburbs._

"Glad to be back?" Kelly's familiar voice tore John from his surprising thoughts. He glanced towards her, seeing his own reflection in her mirrored visor. He knew, however, beneath the visor her face would be portraying an expression similar to his own: uncertainty.

"Are you?" he inquired back.

She rolled her shoulders.

"Depends on what they've got planned for us."

Silently, he agreed with her.

* * *

A bus took them from the Space Center to the Floridian UNSC base not a few miles away. When they arrived, John felt uneasy. Back there, they had fed off a celebratory high, it had all been about their safe and successful return – cameras, applause, friendly greetings. Now, as he walked through the main doors of the UNSC base with his fellow team-members, following Lord Hood, he knew all that was behind them. Now, it was down to business.

They were shown to their temporary rooms in which they'd be staying, and given time to get out of their armor and into casual uniform, which needed to be issued to John and Elsie's Spartans. This gave the rest of the crew from the _Midnight Sun _time for a shower – with no time limit, oh the joy! – and an hour's rest before they would be individually summoned to the auditorium in according to groupings to be briefed on what lay ahead for them. The ODSTs and Renee were first, the Spartan III's second, and John, Dr. Halsey and their Spartans last. _Last_, John wasn't sure what to think about being last. All these uncertainties were bound to drive him mad.

He grabbed a fifteen minute shower, intending to relish it, but his mind seemed to be on nothing else on what lay ahead of him. He met Buck in the shower room, Buck was shaving as John was about to leave. It was Buck who addressed the Spartan on his way out the door – causing him to stop.

"Not bothering to shave for the meeting?" the ODST asked, not taking his eyes off the mirror as he dragged the razor down his soapy face with a scratching sound.

"I need to shave?" John asked, surprised at how far off his voice had sounded. He reached up, rubbing his face but only felt faint stubble.

"You don't have to, I just mentioned it. Needed something to stop you on your way out," Buck rinsed his razor in the sink before continuing the next section of his face. He momentarily met the Spartan's eyes in the mirror, "Jesus, John. You look like shit."

"I _feel _like shit, Ed." The first time he used Buck's first name.

Buck was silent for a moment, seeming absorbed in his shaving, but his expression was thoughtful,

"How'd things go? With Renee, I mean? I was going to ask her, but figured it best to wait."

"Well enough, I suppose."

"Come closer to any sort of agreement?"

"I guess you could call it that. Everything is uncertain however until we get our briefing," John tossed his uniform shirt over his shoulder, not yet having bothered to put it on.

"True enough. That got you worrying, I bet."

John nodded.

"Well," Buck said, "I wish you the best, John, with whatever happens."

"Thank you," a long beat, "You too."

Then, John left.

He began heading towards his temporary room, when a door opened ahead of him, and Dr. Halsey walked out – still wearing the tattered lab coat. She didn't notice him, and John came to a stop in the hallway, watching as Dr. Halsey sighed deeply, put her hands over her face for a moment, and then took them away. She turned, saw him, and seemed startled.

"Oh, John," she said, "I didn't notice you there."

"Sorry, Doctor," John studied her face – and could tell right away something was not right, "Is there something wrong?"

"I just finished speaking via video call with the top brass," she announced. Paused; met his eyes. The pause seemed like an eternity – and John wanted to urge to continue, but something in his throat wouldn't allow him to speak. He felt as he'd been doused in ice-water. He could read it on her face – it hadn't been good.

"None of this is supposed to be said before the meeting…" Dr. Halsey remained calm, as she always had in all the years he'd known her, "But, you're here – and your face is written with all those unanswered questions – I can't deny you the truth any longer, you're here and I mind as well tell you now."

John stared at her.

"Dr. Halsey… I…"

"They're cutting funding to the Spartan programs," the words hit John harder than he thought they would, "Slowly at first, they said, bit by bit – but eventually…" she shrugged, her voice sounding helpless and old, "They'll deplete funds all together."

His mouth opened, he went to speak, but no words came. He saw the pain on Dr. Halsey's face.

"Is there anything that can be –"

"No."

"What is there for –"

"They said a few positions are open in the ONI," Halsey said, "They said they're yours if you and your Spartans so wish to have them …" a knowing smile came onto her face; her Spartans weren't suited for such a job, "And those who don't… given an honorable discharge."

"That's it?" John managed to croak out.

"That's it."

"How long until –"

"A month at most," a pause, then a sarcastic addition complete with a matching smile on her face, "Generous of them, isn't it?"

John wrenched his mouth into a half-smile, fake as fake could be. He felt like he could be sick. So it was the truth then, the truth he thought would be but the truth he never wanted to hear. He felt at an utter and total loss. He couldn't imagine what his Spartans would think, what Elsie and her Spartans would think. They'd be as devastated as he. He half wished that Dr. Halsey hadn't told him now, which he would've learned of this news together with his Spartans – the support would be there.

"Once they learn this," John said slowly, "May I speak to them, my II's, and the III's as well, all together? There is something I want to tell them."

Dr. Halsey nodded, looking weary and well beyond her age. She looked ancient. John knew that this news was killing her as much as it was him. The UNSC had dropped the axe on a program she'd started, a program she'd lived for, and now she'd have to stand by and watch her Spartans suffer, her Spartans flounder in an unfamiliar world.

The two of them, the Doctor and her Spartan, looked lost standing in the hallway, like a couple of ghosts.

That's when John took a step forward and gently put his arms around her – and he realized then how frail Dr. Halsey had grown. He felt as if he squeezed, she would crumble to pieces. She at first seemed dazed by the hug her Spartan had given her, but within a few seconds, John felt her small, weak hands on his back.

"I'm so sorry, John," she whispered, not lifting her face from the shelter of his chest, "This isn't what I envisioned; this is never what I wanted."

He knew this – and it pained him even more.

* * *

**A/N: **A chapter a while in the making! Please excuse my few weeks of inactivity, for I had a busy final few weeks of high school, with exams, final projects, prom, and finally graduation. It feels odd to be done – guess you could say I'm at a bit of a loss just as Dr. Halsey and John. Since it is the summer, you can expect quicker updates. I hope you enjoyed this chapter, as always. - AB


	31. Inevitable Evolutions

**Chapter 31: Inevitable Evolutions**

**October 5****th****, 2553 – UNSC Military Base – Florida Branch – USA – Earth**

"Who would've thought it!" announced Romeo; he was walking down the hallway with his fellow ODSTs, and of course Renee. All wearing rather solemn faces, they had just come from the auditorium where they'd been briefed – or rather de-briefed on their status in the UNSC.

No missions lay ahead for them, instead the equivalent of a paid vacation. As it had been explained to them, an era of peace had fallen upon Earth and her remaining colonies, and their specialist services were no longer required. No, they wouldn't be laid-off – but still remain a soldier in the UNSC, but with that, they received permission to go on long-term leave. Employed in a sense, but with nothing to do; it was suggested that they could do some desk-work at their local ONI, but other than that, they were told they were allowed to pack their bags and head for home.

"Yeah," Buck shook his head thoughtfully, "Who would've thought, eh?"

"Not me, that's for sure!" Dutch answered, "You would think they could use us Helljumpers for somethin', but guess not! Home it is – I haven't been there in a long time."

"Guess the party at Lil Sarge's will happen sooner than we thought!" Mickey shrugged with a sympathetic grin. Glancing to his left, where the short Sergeant was walking beside him, he threw his arm about her shoulders. This seemed to wake her up from her thoughts, for she looked up at him in surprise.

"What? Oh," she let out slight chuckle, that sounded somewhat forced, "Guess so." Renee's request to leave the UNSC had been denied, due to the five-year mandatory service required of her. She hadn't been able to put in her five years the first time, due to her sustained injuries. She'd been told, however, that since she served from 2533 to 2535, they would take that into account and dock it off her five year service, leaving her to only serve three.

Serve wasn't an adequate term. She too, had been allowed long-term leave, for her services, along with the ODSTs', weren't required as of the present time. Renee was glad she was allowed to return home, and even happier that she'd be receiving pay from the UNSC. The chances that she or the ODSTs would be called on to serve were slim, Lord Hood told them as much – rather grimly, she noted. He later mentioned that possibly their pay could be axed altogether, for if the expected period of peace was expected to continue for a while and the UNSC would only need to keep minimal soldiers employed, and that the specialty forces, such as the ODSTs could be cut out permanently unless a new conflict arose.

This made her worry, not for herself - for she was quite content with going home and getting paid while she was there – but for John and his Spartans. Lord Hood, although he hadn't mentioned the fate of the Spartans to them – she got a feeling that along with the ODSTs, the Spartans were no longer needed.

Renee knew she was being selfish, but she knew that if the Spartan program was cancelled, it would bring John home to her sooner. He _had _said he'd come back to her, and she was going to take his word for it. However, even though she and John had technically reconciled in the cryo bay, she strangely felt something was amiss between them.

"Did anyone ever tell you that they can read your face like a book?" Buck looked to her.

"Can't say anyone has, Eddie," Renee met his eyes earnestly. She was tempted to shrug off Mickey's arm that lay heavily around her shoulders, but when Buck did the same – she found herself scrunched between the two ODSTs, and the others soon crowded close, "Why, you're the first, I'm guessing?"

"You seem down."

"Yep, not yourself," Mickey agreed, "Not too happy that they wouldn't let you leave, aren't ya?"

"I don't know what exactly to think about it," she answered truthfully, "At least I don't worry about having to find another job." She paused thoughtfully, looking from Mickey, to Buck, and to the other ODSTs, "What happened to us, do you think they're going to do the same to the Spartans?"

"Without a doubt, Lil Sarge," Romeo answered from behind her, "Hell, the UNSC could get better use outa us than them, and we're being sent home."

"John and the gang are probably to hear the same stuff as us," Dutch said.

"Nah, I'd say they're gonna cut them altogether," Buck spoke up, and Renee turned to look at him quizzically. John had mentioned it being a possibility, and now Buck was too, "Seems like an expensive program to keep going in a time of peace."

"Well, look at it this way, Lil Sarge," Mickey said, "John can come home with ya."

"We could get him drunk again if we have that party," Romeo snorted.

Out of the corner of her eye, Renee spotted a smirk leap onto Rookie's face, but it disappeared as soon as it came. Oh, the ever-silent Rookie, she thought. She'd heard him speak, but not in a while. She wondered what Rookie thought about all of this. She imagined Rookie's integration into a civilian life would be somewhat similar to how John's had been, but had he lived a civilian life before? She didn't know. There was so much to be wondered about the mysterious ODST.

"I thought you two were on the outs," Dutch spoke up, meaning her and John, "You were hating him not too long ago."

"Nah, Dutch, they sorted it out," Mickey told him, "Didn't ya hear anything Gunny said earlier?"

"Truthfully speaking, I don't know what's going to happen," Renee announced, "With me, with him, with us. If it so happens that the UNSC decides to can the Spartan program, it will be an awful blow to John and his Spartans. When I was talking to him earlier, he mentioned the possibility of it happening, and he was dreading it, if not fearing it – and I don't think just for himself, but for the others."

"When you think about it, there's not much else they can do, is there?" Romeo said thoughtfully.

"Not in a civilian setting, no," Renee answered with a doubtful shake of her head, "For a month or so, John lived with me and lived a civilian life – or tried to. He struggled with his PTSD," she glanced to Rookie, who was also rumored to have it, and worse than John. She saw something come alive on his features, "He saw hallucinations, had nightmares and flashbacks – found it difficult to integrate into the new life. He tried, God love him, he tried – but there was only so much trying John was up for."

"The big guy was lost without his green hunk-of-junk and a weapon, wasn't he?" Buck remarked.

"So it seemed," she shrugged, "He wasn't himself – but then again, the John I had known was a John from eighteen years ago." She lowered her eyes, her voice softening, "So long ago, but I remember it just like it was yesterday. A lot has happened since then. He's been through a lot… he changed."

"The war has changed us all," Mickey let his arm fall from around her shoulders, "Some more than others, though."

"This John you mentioned, Lil Sarge, the one from eighteen years ago – was he really so different?" Buck asked curiously.

"He was. He wasn't so serious and not nearly as cynical as he is now – and he smiled more." _Oh God_, Renee thought_, how I've grown to miss his smile. _She still remembered it, his true smile – how he bared his teeth and showed the gap that was between his front two. The slight dimples in his cheeks, the narrowing of his eyes.

She realized sadly, that if the UNSC decided to axe the Spartan program, she'd see his smile even less.

* * *

One after another, both the Spartan II's and the Spartan III's heard their fate explained solemnly to them by Lord Hood, who seemed as uneager to tell them as the Spartans themselves were to hear what he had to say. John, who had known the blade was to fall and subsequently behead the Spartan program without so much as a hesitation, sat rigidly in his seat in the auditorium, with Kelly, Linda and Fred beside him, allowing the awful truth to hit him for the second time.

Dr. Halsey was present, although she sat on the edge of her seat on the far side of the auditorium nearest the door and she refused to neither make eye contact with her Spartans nor keep her gaze locked on Lord Hood as he spoke. Her eyes had fallen on an insignificant location on the floor, and not once throughout the ordeal did she raise them. John kept glancing at her out of the corner of his eye, and saw that what Lord Hood was saying was hurting her as much as it was his fellow Spartans.

Lord Hood explained the situation calmly, in very much the way that Dr. Halsey had to John when they'd been alone in the hallway. He regretted telling them the news, John was able to tell easily, but Hood never faltered, his voice remained steady. He was just the messenger, after all – he had no say in what the UNSC as a whole decided to do to the Spartan program.

When the awful sentence itself had been said – that the funding to the Spartan program was being cut entirely, it didn't take his Spartans long to figure out what that meant. John had been surprised, when Linda, who was sitting beside him, reached over and grabbed his hand in a vice-like grip. He'd met her eyes, and saw what they portrayed. _Dread_. John had squeezed her hand supportively, but knew it would do little to console her. The amount of emotion that could be read on her face at that moment was possibly the most emotion he'd ever seen Linda let through, and he read it like a book. Kelly and Frederic, however, had little reaction to the words. They had just stared ahead, blinking only occasionally, the little color lost from both their faces as Lord Hood continued to speak.

And Dr. Halsey, she never lifted her eyes from the floor.

* * *

After the meeting in the auditorium, none of the Spartans so much as spoke a word as they filed out of the room and ambled off to their individual rooms, which was all in the same stretch of hallway. They seemed dumb with shock, and John felt even more miserable. He wanted to say something to them, but would wait until he had all of the Spartans in the auditorium like Dr. Halsey had promised. He already knew what he would say, and he only hoped in some way his words would help them.

John went into his temporary room, much similar to the one that had been onboard the _Midnight Sun, _although slightly larger. It was still plain, and he hadn't bothered to unpack his things from his knapsack. Sitting down gingerly on the edge of his bed, he waited until the Spartan III's were called next to the auditorium. He estimated that their meeting would be finished in approximately the same amount of time as his own had been, roughly twenty minutes or so.

Then, once that was over, he would be able to speak to them all.

A knock sounded on his door – and he waited a few seconds, debating whether or not to answer it. When he finally did, his voice hoarsely croaked out a "Come in", the sound of it surprising not only himself but the knocker. The door opened and John wasn't really surprised to see the female marine Sergeant standing in the doorway. At that moment, she looked no older than she had been when he first met her, but with a blink it was gone as her face transformed to portray vivid emotion. Her eyebrows crumpled and her mouth tightened into a firm line that made her look, for once, her actual age of near-forty. As she entered his room, crossing over and taking a seat beside him on the bed without so much as a word.

For a moment, the two of them just sat there in silence.

"What's the verdict?" Renee finally asked him, her voice combined with a sigh. She sounded and looked weary.

"What I expected," John answered with a nod, "They're cutting the funding to the Spartan programs. They just don't need us anymore. It is a very real possibility that within the next year, the Spartan program will cease to exist," he met her eyes, and Renee was suddenly surprised by the raw emotion she saw swimming in his usually dead black eyes, "We'll be history. I'll be history, Renee."

He didn't expect her to say anything, and she didn't – he couldn't blame her. What could she say?

Instead, she let her eyes fall from his and heaved a rather large sigh, accepting his words with a single nod of her head.

"What about you and the ODSTs?" he questioned after a beat.

"It seems they don't have much of a need for us, either. We're instructed to go on temporary leave – to go home. We'll be paid, but the need for me, or the ODSTs, especially the ODSTs, is minimal and eventually may cease to exist."

"They wouldn't let you leave altogether."

"No, I have three years left on my personal debt to the UNSC, but something tells me it won't be that long," she shrugged, seeming rather indifferent, "Ah well, I get paid to stay at home – not many jobs include that." She met his eyes again, "What will you do, John?"

"I don't know."

"You could come home wit– "

"Not yet."

Renee lowered her eyes, pretending not to appear hurt, but his words uncontrollably hit her with a force that caused nothing but. She had already tried to convince herself that John would come home to her, maybe not right now, maybe not even within a few weeks, but eventually. However, she couldn't help but control the pang in her heart that wanted him to come home with her right that instant. Just the idea of going home to her little house and once again having to sleep alone was almost unbearable. She knew that in 2535, she would've been able to tell him this, she would've been able to express how she was feeling at that exact moment to him and not worry, but this was now – and now she felt that she could do no such thing.

"Well, the ODSTs and I are going back to LA as early as tomorrow," she told John, somehow hoping that this would sway him to come with her, but he simply nodded. Glancing to her, a painfully fake smile came to John's lips.

"Have fun at your party," he said, obviously remembering what the ODSTs had said earlier, "Have a drink for me."

"I don't want to drink," she answered, a pitiful expression coming across her features. It took John a second to realize she was crying. A tear fell down her cheek and dropped onto her lap, "I've detested it ever since that night on Reach, do you remember what happened then?" She didn't wait for an answer, for she knew he wouldn't have forgotten, "I act so tough – I try to act like what has happened in the last month isn't bothering me. I'm a Sergeant, I never thought I'd be one, and I'm sick of trying to pretend I'm strong. I can't be strong anymore, John."

"You have to be. You don't have any other choice."

"If you could just come home…"

"I don't have a home!" John got up, and tossed his knapsack into his locker, and slammed the door so hard the entire locker shook. He whirled to face her, "Or, in a few months, I won't! The UNSC has been my home since I was a child, my Spartans' home since they were children! What do you think they're going to do? I have to go in there in a few minutes and try to tell them that even though we can no longer be what we were made to be, that we have a future! I have to try boosting their morale that's already been shot down by telling them something that could be very much a lie! I'm their leader and very soon, there will nowhere to lead them but the equivalent of a living hell! Try being in my shoes, try it!"

"Surely there is something you can do…"

"Oh, for Christ's sake, Renee! I wish I could be like you and the ODSTs, get home and have a nice little party and drink a few beers! That'd be fantastic – but that's not reality. Reality is here and it's staring me right in the face and whether or not I fucking like it I have to accept it!" John paused, shoulders heaving, staring at Renee who sat timidly on his bed, her face pale, "The axe has fallen Renee, they've cut the funding and soon enough, Spartans will be no more."

John turned away, and Renee was silent.

"Just leave," he said softly. When a couple seconds passed and he didn't hear her make a move, he raised his voice, "That's an order."

He listened to her as she got up, took a few steps towards he door. She hesitated, but second guessed it, and without a word, left the room.

* * *

John stood in the place that Lord Hood had stood not too long ago, gazing out at the auditorium, his hands folded behind his back. Two generations of Spartans, his own Spartan II's, and Elsie's Spartan III's, looked at him with almost blank expressions, no doubt still in awe from the news that had been delivered to them. He could only guess what was now rushing through their heads, they'd be wondering what he was going to say, or maybe, thinking up a fleeting hope that he had talked to the Top Brass and convinced them to keep the Spartan program going just a little longer.

_Oh,_ he thought, _how I wish such a thing could happen. I wish I had the authority to do that. I wish I had the power to convince the highest ranking officers in the UNSC – but I don't. _John knew they detested Spartans and were probably more than happy to be finally putting an end to them.

He gazed out at his Spartans' grim faces, and wasn't surprised to see most of them wearing identical expressions. Kelly, Linda, and Fred sat together in the front row, Dr. Halsey a few seats to the left. Although Dr. Halsey hadn't bothered to raise her eyes during the last meeting, John felt her eyes on him, stuck like glue. Momentarily, he met them. _You can do it, John_, they seemed to say.

"Spartans," he spoke, his voice ringing clearly throughout the entire auditorium with little effort, "Just a few moments ago, the news of our futures was regrettably thrown onto us – a future I know most of you never dreamed would arise. Just as once, we never dreamt the Human-Covenant war would last thirty-two years. We survived the war – and we will survive this. In a month's time, we may lose our armor, we may lose our ranks, but one thing they cannot take from us is who we are, who we were made to be. We, my teammates, my friends, are Spartans. An elite group of individuals who were chosen and made to be the best of the best. We've come a long way since the beginning. We went through the initial hardships of the augmentations, we bid goodbye to those who didn't survive them. We grew as children into men and women, we grew as soldiers, and we grew as friends. We fought alongside each other, some were battles that we don't particularly like to recall, battles that claimed our teammates. Forget them not. Never forget Reach, the battle that left us with the few who are sitting in this auditorium today. We began in the hundreds, and now we are left with fifteen. Fifteen. Ignore whether you are a Spartan II or a Spartan III. All along we were given numbers, numbers to identify us in place of a surname – now the only number that matters is the number of how few of us are left," John paused, gazing at them all, "They have listed every one of us who died as MIA, an illusion to boost morale, to make everyone think that Spartans never die. We know otherwise. We are the few survivors of a program originally started forty years ago by Dr. Catherine Halsey. We are the last Spartans, and that gives us more reason to stick together. Do not give up, do not lose hope. Be proud of our accomplishments, be proud of who we are. Let your hearts beat for our fallen comrades and support and love the ones who are still standing. We are Spartans. Without us, the war would've never been won. This may seem like the end, but this is only the beginning. Our bodies and minds may eventually die and wither away, but we must work to keep the Spartan legend alive. The Spartans will not die with the termination of the program. We will live. We will survive. We will make it. This is not the end, my soldiers, my friends. We will survive."

With that, John struck a sharp salute – and in unison, the Spartans in front of him stood and returned it.

"_Who are we_?" John shouted.

"Spartans!" fourteen voices bellowed back.

"And what will we do?"

"Survive!"

John stood proud on the stage, looking at his Spartans, feeling adrenaline pumping through him. He heard one sound of a person clapping, and he looked to Linda, to see her with a smile on her face – her claps ringing out through the auditorium. Fred and Kelly were next to join her, then Elsie, and with her, her Spartan III's. The room rang with it.

Movement at the back row caught John's eye, and he saw the ODSTs, along with Renee, quietly making their leave. He hadn't noticed them before. Buck was the last to leave, and he caught his eye, giving him a quick thumbs-up before exiting.

Finally, John met Dr. Halsey's eyes – and was surprised to see the Doctor with tears running freely down her face, but she was clapping for him, too, an uncontrollable smile breaking out on her face. He returned the smile ever so slightly, and once again gazed around the auditorium at his Spartans, - the last of a kind.

* * *

The warm sun shone down on Renee and the ODSTs as they came outside once again. They had went inside to the auditorium when they heard the announcement for both the Spartan II's and III's to be called to the bridge. Renee, despite her unsuccessful conversation with John earlier, remembered him saying that he would have to make a speech to the Spartans, and curiosity got the best of her. She convinced the ODSTs to abandon their game of basketball and go in to hear what John had to say.

She'd come out not only impressed, but also with a better understanding of how strong the bond between the Spartans were. The most emotion she had heard in John's voice came out in his inspiring speech, and even an idiot would understand that he deeply cared for every last one of the remaining Spartans, whether they were Spartan II's or III's. John's leadership really shone in this riveting speech, he spoke the plain truth, as well as infusing a great amount of morale-boosting hope at the same time.

"For a man that has said very little, I must say, that when he wants to, he can sure talk," Buck announced as they headed out back onto the asphalt basketball court. He was cradling the basketball under his arm, but chest-passed it to Mickey.

"I was inspired!" Mickey admitted, "I mean, in a way, his speech meant something to us too."

"Yeah," Romeo agreed, catching the ball as Mickey tossed it to him, "About how this isn't the end, that it's a new beginning. The ODSTs won't end if the program is ever terminated. We're ODSTs, and nothing can change that!"

"Mind-as-well be bred into us!" Dutch nodded, receiving the ball and giving it a few dribbles, approaching the net. Mickey and Rookie went to block him, but he jumped, taking a shot at the net. It bounced off the rim and Renee claimed it, "John impressed me – must say it's the first time."

"He cares about his Spartans," Renee said, "I never realized exactly how much until now…" She dodged Dutch and passed the ball to Buck.

"Yeah, I guess he does," Buck swirled to avoid Rookie as he made a desperate swipe for the ball. Mickey came around his other side, also intent on stealing it. Making a quick 360 turn, he leaped and tossed, "Dutch!"

Dutch snatched the ball out of thin air, making a mad dash for the opposing net, dribbling back and forth and avoiding Romeo, Rookie and Mickey as they shadowed him for it. He jumped, tossed, and it went into the net. With a cheer, Dutch turned to Renee, his closest teammate, and gave her a high-five.

"If the Spartans get over being depressed, I wouldn't mind playing basketball with one of 'em!" Romeo admitted.

"Can you imagine?" Mickey made a face, "It'd be good if you were on _their _team. I'd hate to be the opponent!"

"Looking for a Spartan, you say?" A female voice was heard.

They all turned and saw Kelly crossing the asphalt towards them, her dog tags jingling. She was wearing a muscle-tee and a pair of knee-length cargo pants. Her slim, chiseled figure still had a hint of femininity; her curves were slight but there none the less. She had a thin, long neck and small hands, but impressive biceps and calves of stone. Her square face clearly portrayed her interest, a clever grin on her lips, and a sparkle in her eye. She seemed eager to compete, and looked rather assured she'd win.

Renee, who was holding the basketball in her hands, suddenly became uncertain. She recalled the last prominent conversation she had with Kelly in 2535. It hadn't been that nice, Kelly hadn't seemed to like her at all. When Kelly's eyes fell on her holding the ball, Renee couldn't help but meet her gaze, although she wanted to drop the ball and disappear.

"Let's have it, Sergeant," Kelly said, holding out her hands expectantly. There was nothing on her features that portrayed that she remembered her, or the incident in 2535 at all – but it wasn't safe to say that she didn't remember, the Spartans were puppeteers of their facial expressions and the emotions they allowed through to the surface.

Renee forced a small smile on her face and tossed the Spartan the ball, which she easily snatched from the air in a split second with an almost godly grace, and went from Renee, to each of the ODSTs.

"Six versus one!" she declared with a grin, "I've been up against worst odds; let's go."

Seeing Kelly's eyes were on the ODSTs, Renee made a quick lunge for the ball, but a second Kelly was there, the next she was gone in a blur – several feet away and already in the process of dodging Romeo. The ODSTs quickly encircled her – or tried to – but her movements rivaled that of a cheetah. Her speed remarkable, she dodged her way through them with ease, and with a graceful and exact leap, she placed the ball into the net.

The _thud-thud-thud _of the basketball as it bounced on the pavement was the only sound to be heard. Kelly turned on her heels to face her opponents, and saw the ODSTs and Renee were looking at her with amazement.

"You can't give up that easily, troopers," Kelly scolded.

"Why don't you try out for the NBA?" Dutch asked her, "Guaranteed they'd give you a job."

Kelly let out a light chuckle.

"I'm a Spartan," she replied. Tossing the ball gracefully back to Renee, who fumbled it yet managed to catch it none the less. Kelly's eyes met each one of them, "Troopers; Sergeant." She lastly let her eyes fall on Renee, before turning and walking away across the court.

Renee was dead silent, realizing then and there by the look Kelly had given her that she did remember her. However, she hadn't been hostile towards her – but like there always seemed to be with the Spartans, there was an underlying emotion almost dormant on her features, just showing enough to create intrigue as to what it was – and of course, Renee had no idea.

"What was that all about?" Romeo whispered, exchanging glances with the others, "She just came out to show us up, or what?"

"Hell if I know," Dutch shrugged, "But I don't feel much like playing basketball after that – Spartan chick made us look awful shitty at our game."

"She might've been trying to make a point," Buck suggested.

"A point? That she's better than us?" snapped Dutch.

"No, that she's still got it. That she's still as much a Spartan as she used to be."

"What the hell you gettin' at Gunny? What does basketball have to do with bein' a Spartan?"

Buck shook his head, muttering a 'never mind' under his breath. Letting out a sigh, he sat down on the asphalt, not caring it was in the middle of the basketball court. He gestured for his fellow soldiers to sit with him.

"So," Buck began, once everyone had found comfortable spots on the pavement, "Who's heading home tomorrow?"

"We all are, Gunny, you know that," Romeo answered, "We came here to do the mission with the Chief and now it's all finished; he got his Spartans back and they're all a big happy super-soldier family again. We don't have any more purpose to be here, Lord Hood insinuated that much. He pretty much gave us the go-ahead to leave for home."

"I can't wait to go back," Mickey said with a grin, "And take Brute with me! It'll be like bringin' home a new baby."

"How do you know what that's like, Mick?" Buck spat, "Something tells me a cat is less of a handful then a tiny, screaming brat."

"Yeah, he's a lot cuddlier!"

"I'll be glad to get back to my wife," Dutch spoke up, "Ever since she lost her leg to that mine, I haven't been with her as much as I would've liked to have been."

Renee, who was the only one not to know Dutch's story, let alone the fact he had a wife, quickly spoke up.

"I had no idea," she said softly, "I'm sorry to hear that. What's her name?"

"Gretchen," Dutch let out a sigh, his facial expression becoming placid. He scratched his head thoughtfully, "I haven't spoken about her in the longest time – I guess it's just easier trying to keep her out of my mind – but yeah, she was a marine, like you. Was out on patrol, stepped on a rebel mine; it took her leg off at the knee. She lost a lot of blood, but Gretch was strong, she made it. Got an honorable discharge and was sent home. Last time I seen her, she was getting along just fine with one leg. She doesn't let anything get her down," he smiled at the memory.

"You'll have to bring her to the party when we get back to LA," Renee suggested with a warm smile.

Dutch nodded,

"I think she'd like that."

"What about you, Gunny, you and Veronica gonna tie the knot or what?" Romeo asked, stifling laughter. Buck was quick to shoot him a glare.

"You boys just love teasin' me! It ain't funny!"

"Where is Veronica anyhow?" Mickey asked, "Haven't seen her much since we got here."

Buck shrugged,

"She'll be around – probably doing reports."

"We'll put you on the list of uncertain futures with Lil' Sarge and Rookie, then," Dutch told him, then looked to Rookie who was seated beside him. Rookie had a thoughtful expression on his face, but his mouth was downturned in a rather severe frown.

"Have any idea what you're going to do, Rook?"

Rookie shook his head. Glancing up, he met Renee's eyes for a moment, and she gave him a small sympathetic smile. He took a deep breath, and sighed.

"Don't know," he croaked.

The ODSTs reacted all at once as they heard the voice of their teammate for the very first time – it was a copious array of gasps of surprise and exclamations of "Holy shit" or the like. Renee was even surprised, she stared at Rookie with awe – she'd heard him speak before, but never in a million years did she expect him to come out and speak in front of everyone.

"You just spoke!" Buck exclaimed, staring at Rookie as if he didn't know what he'd just done. Rookie raised a brow, a slight smile showing itself on his lips; he shrugged nonchalantly as if he'd been doing it at along.

"What the hell!" Dutch threw his arm around Rookie, giving him a shake, "You answered me!"

"Well Rook, since you don't know what you're going to do, you're welcome to stay with any of us," Mickey told him, "I've got an apartment with a couch that could be yours if you wanted it!"

Romeo and Dutch murmured in agreement.

"You could come stay with me, too," Renee offered, meeting Rookie's eyes, "As you know, I don't know if John will be coming back anytime soon. My house seems awfully big when it's just me. I have a spare room – not just a couch."

"There ya go, Rookie!" Buck grinned, "Stay with Lil Sarge!"

Rookie looked thoughtful for a moment, but he gave a slight nod of confirmation, and a thankful smile to Renee. She guessed two words were enough for him today, so she wasn't going to expect him to say anymore. She could read his face, however, that he was grateful for her offer. It was obvious, she realized, Rookie didn't have a home or family to go to.

"I've acquired Rookie as a houseguest, but troopers," Renee announced with a wry smile, "On our first day back I expect to see all of you at my house with your smile on your face and a beer in hand! You'll get to meet my best friend, Amy, who fought alongside me in '35. You'll love her – and her son a sweetheart. We'll have a great coming-home party!"

The ODSTs responded happily with a collection of whoops, claps and cheers – which eventually died away to slaps on the back and lingering laughter.

* * *

From the far side of courtyard, hidden in the shadows of the awning of the doorway, Kelly and John stood watching the ODSTs seated in their circle on the pavement. Kelly had stayed there since she had played the mini-game of basketball with them, observing quietly, and John had come outside, for whatever reason – and found her there. Now they both stood side by side, Kelly leaning casually against the wall and John standing almost at attention beside her.

"They look happy," Kelly announced the obvious, letting out a little scoff, her eyes not leaving the group to meet John's gaze that she felt upon her back once she spoke, "They really don't have a care in the world. I don't know whether to be happy for them or to completely envy their luxuries."

"Envy shall get you nowhere," John answered softly; "They have been dealt their cards, just as we've been dealt ours."

"A real riveting speech back there," she turned to meet his eyes, "I mean it. I think you made a difference – and in this case, an essential one. The news shot our morale all to hell; now we have your words to linger on, to give us just a bit more hope."

"Hm."

"John?"

"Yes?"

"Hope – does such a thing really exist for our situation?"

"It's critical that we remain positive, Kelly."

She let out a soft laugh:

"And you were always the most cynical of us all," she didn't wait for his response, but looked back out at the ODSTs, finding Renee's little figure amongst them, "Oh, I realized something today – something I'm wondering how I didn't realize earlier." She paused, "Sergeant Kilburn," met his eyes, "She's the same one from long ago, isn't she."

"Yes," John nodded curtly, glancing out to Renee then back to Kelly, "Why?"

"I thought she was killed on Hydra. You just came running back to us after that battle, and never mentioned anything about her again, I figured she must've died – 'cause you went back to your old self after that."

"She was almost dead – I thought it would be best to think her so and push her from my mind," John said. He hadn't spoken to any of his Spartans about this before, and was somewhat surprised in Kelly's curiosity, but at the same time, he felt good to tell her.

"What happened?"

John closed his eyes, remembering it like it was just yesterday.

"A stealth Elite ambushed us; killed one of my team before I attacked it. The Elite, while I was attempting to strangle it, picked up my assault rifle and shot Renee. She lost consciousness and was brought to the _Hercules _in critical condition. I forget the number of bullets that they pulled out of her – but she hung on. For a short time, it looked like she was going to be okay. Then, that night, she fell out of bed, re-opening her wounds and splitting her head open on the corner of a table. She slipped into a coma before they realized what happened." John lowered his eyes, "There was the possibility that she would never wake up. I went back to you and the Spartans and tried to forget her. When the war ended, I went to Earth to look for her – not knowing if she was even alive, but…" he gestured to Renee, "There she was. She slept through eighteen years of her life, but she was alive."

"Lucky, that one," Kelly said with a nod, her facial features changing none, "Not many would've survived being shot," a thoughtful pause, "So why is she here now?"

"She came with me to find you and the others."

"Don't try and fool me, John. She came with you to stay by your side – she didn't care if we were found. Faithful like a little dog. Does she still love you, or has she fallen for one of the ODSTs?"

John narrowed his eyes.

"I'm just asking – the reason why I didn't clue into who she was at first because she isn't glued to your side – and she's always looking at that one Helljumper; the blond one that doesn't talk."

For a moment, John was at a loss for words. He looked from Kelly, back to Renee and the ODSTs – he watched as Renee threw her head back to laugh at something Buck said; as she was cajoled by Mickey who had his arm about her shoulders; as she threw a playful punch at Romeo's knee, as her gaze settled on the Rookie as she gave him a warm smile – and surprisingly he returned it.

The proof was right in his face – or what seemed to be proof. John had never noticed before. Renee seemed right at home with the ODSTs. Her and the Rookie? He watched as she said something to him, and the silent ODST rolled his shoulders in response.

His mind flashed back to Renee begging him to come home with her as soon as he could.

"_Come back to me, John_." She had said more times than one.

Things began to soar through John's mind – the deterioration of their relationship, the pregnancy scare, the time he'd gone into cryo-sleep and had come back to find Renee buddy-buddy with the ODSTs. That was when it had all started to change.

"Don't look so brooding," Kelly tore him from his thoughts, "We've got more important things to think about," she turned and headed towards the door, going inside. John didn't move, he continued to watch the soldiers sitting out on the court, "Oh and John?"

"What?" he snapped, glancing back over his shoulder at her.

"You might want to keep an eye on that Spartan III. Elsie," Kelly's face took on the first serious emotion since he'd been standing there with her, "She isn't taking the news of the cancellation well at all; Fred told me that she's practically inconsolable."

**A/N: **Another chapter finished. This one came together all rather quickly – and for the last little bit I had aid from a most interesting source. I was at my local bookstore and a book jumped off the shelves at me, perhaps some of you have read it: "Halo: The Essential Visual Guide". Well, I had to buy it ($18.99 CDN) – and I'm glad I did, it is a wonderful source, an alphabetical arrangement of characters, species, weapons, vehicles, armor, locations and tons more with interesting facts and pictures spanning from Halo: CE to Reach – (that is how I learned of Dutch having a wife named Gretchen and what happened to her; no it is not an original idea!) I'm so excited to read more of the book, as it will aid me as I continue to work on this story and just fulfill any Halo cravings I may have! Anyway, I hope you enjoyed the chapter as usual, with more to come soon! - AB


	32. Survival

**Chapter 32: Survival**

** October 5****th****, 2553 – UNSC Military Base – Florida – USA - Earth**

John approached the still figure that stood on the edge of the hill overlooking the training course. Cloud cover had fallen in front of the sun, and in the grey light, the Spartan III looked much like a pale statue. Her blond hair was the only thing to move, tousled lightly by the wind. He knew that she could hear him coming as his shoes crunched on the gravel just before it died away into the tufts of grassland that lined the hill.

Elsie still didn't move. It wasn't until he was standing beside her did she give him a sideways glance, her electric blue eyes seeming to glow. Her face was unreadable as she took him in. For a moment, the two Spartans just stared at each other, until John decided to speak first:

"I heard you're upset."

"Am I the only one?" Elsie was quick to demand sharply, throwing questions at John one after the other, "Why single me out? Is everyone else suddenly accepting of the idea that the Spartan program has been all but cancelled? Am I the only one who sees the future – or rather should I say, the lack thereof?"

John remained silent for a moment, answering her first with a shake of his head.

"No; you're not alone."

"I'm overwhelmed," she admitted, allowing expression through to her face; she looked all at once defeated, "I never saw this coming, never expected that one day there would be no use for us! If I cannot be a Spartan then I haven't any purpose. John, you know I have nothing else, no family to go home to."

"Your family is here," John told her, fixing her with a piercing gaze, "We are your family. We will survive this together, we'll all pull through."

"How can you be so sure? You honestly think all of us will make it through alive?" This was a cynical side to Elsie that John had never seen before, and he didn't like it. Her tone of voice was negative, she held on to no hopes, she was looking blankly ahead at the future with dread.

"Did you listen to one word I said back there in the meeting?"

"Yes, John, I did," Elsie snapped, her eyes glittering with what looked to be tears, "Of course I did; but apparently I'm the only one to realize that your words are the only thing that stands between us and insanity. We can cling to them, your fleeting hopes, like a lifeline, but eventually something will happen that will prove to us that your words held little truth. You talk of hope, there is no hope. We can't change what's been done."

"No; but we can learn to adapt."

"Some of us can't adapt," Elsie said, her voice cracking as she gazed out over the training course, "I've already had to adapt once, to realize that I'd been chosen to be a super-soldier to be thrust into suicide missions – and I accepted that. Now they're taking that away from me; they'll leave us to try and find a place in the world, a world that we don't belong to. I'm not going to do that. I'm not going to try and integrate myself into a 'normal' life – whatever that may be. If I cannot live as a Spartan, I mind as well not live at all."

"Stop talking like that," John told her, "That's an order."

Elsie frowned, but met his eyes. A weak smile crossed her face.

"Sir," she said in a whisper, "Yes, sir. It has been an honor serving beside you – I mind as well say that now, for I doubt we'll ever be on a mission together again."

"You never kn –"

"I know," Elsie said matter-of-factly. She extended a hand out for him to shake. John hesitated, trying to see what intentions lay behind her eyes, but she wouldn't let him through. Her emotions were closed off to him. Glancing down at her hand, he grabbed it, her grip nearly as firm as his. That same, sad, weak smile crossed her lips.

With a jerk, John pulled her into his arms, a friendly, supportive embrace. He felt Elsie momentarily stiffen, but she wrapped her arms around him, her chin resting on his shoulder.

"Everything will turn out okay, I promise," John said softly, breaking the hug after a moment and holding her at arms-length. For a moment, Elsie stared at him blankly, but she nodded before turning and trudging down the hill back towards the base.

John watched after her, but let out a sigh and sat down on the hill, his head spinning with many thoughts. Kelly had been right, Elsie nearly was inconsolable. Her outlook on the future was miserable and hopeless, and he couldn't help but feel his words back in the auditorium or those he just spoke made little – if any difference in her dreary opinion.

This is where being a leader grew difficult. There was only so much he could do in an attempt to try and console his Spartans, especially it being Elsie. He felt that she'd come to. None of the other Spartans seemed to be allowing it to affect them in that way, at least not now after he had spoken to them all. Elsie would come around in good time, he was almost certain. She was tough, and although the initial blow was indeed hard to accept, her fellow Spartan III's would find some way to soften her harsh opinion on the future.

The future – something that John currently couldn't claim to be sure of, either. He usually was cynical, he knew that much, as Kelly had knowingly pointed out – but he knew that this time he couldn't afford to be. He had to remain positive and hope for the best, not just for himself but for his fellow Spartans. He couldn't think of a time that they needed him more.

It wasn't like any of them were particularly happy – Elsie was just the one to noticeably show and express her frustrations. John could tell by the way Kelly had acted earlier that this whole issue was no doubt a chip on her shoulder as well. What surprised him more was her inquiry about Renee. She'd finally recognized her; and still seemed rather indifferent when he had explained to her what had happened back in '35. He couldn't really blame her, though. Kelly barely knew Renee and the short time that they had been acquainted, Kelly had feared that John's relationship with her would get him killed. The injuries that Renee had sustained almost twenty years ago wouldn't be a concern to her in the slightest – the war had hardened her, the fall of Reach had hardened her, being stranded in the Dyson sphere had hardened her.

John, surprisingly, could remember that day Renee had been shot as clear as it had been yesterday – and he wasn't able to forget the raw fear that had inevitably gripped him when he saw Renee lying riddled with bullet wounds, bleeding profusely and struggling to hold on to her consciousness – and her life. It still affected him to this day; he could feel an unpleasant tightening of his chest as he recalled it then once more as he sat on the hill. The images in his head were so vivid, as most of them usually were.

He pushed the memory aside, it was never good to allow himself to delve deep into his mind where a dreadful arrangement of memories lurked – memories of death, fear, blood, injury, pain. It was those kinds of thoughts that drove soldiers mad.

The thought of Renee alone caused a pang in his chest that seemed to hit him dead-center. Kelly had pointed out something that until at that point, he hadn't noticed. A suspicion that could very well be a reality; just the idea of Renee loving someone else caused a rage to well up inside him, as well as something he wasn't so acquainted with: heartache. It was like a slap to the face, a douse of ice water over the head, a rude wake-up call.

He knew that for the past month he hadn't treated Renee as well as he should've – and Kelly was right, Renee had followed him faithfully like a little dog, never wanting to leave his side, gazing up at him with loving eyes. He focused entirely on the mission, and in a way, lost her. He had become so accustomed to unparalleled focus on his orders that he had forgotten that once as a young man he had somehow balanced that and love – a tedious task that had almost cost him his life more than once. And Renee, who had been in a coma for the past eighteen years, expected him to be like how he was in '35, and had been so unexpectedly shoved aside – and turned to whomever she could – in this case the ODSTs. She'd put on the act of being a tough Sergeant to try and mask the fact that she was hurting – John began to realize it now.

In the distance, the far off rumble of thunder could be heard. Glancing unconcerned up at the sky, which was now almost filled with the grey cloud cover, John realized it was soon going to rain. Within a couple of seconds, his assumption was right as he felt the first gentle droplets of rain sprinkle his bare arms and face.

Could he blame Renee for seeking comfort elsewhere? For making friendship with the ODSTs? For possibly falling in love with someone else?

The answer John didn't know – but as he sat on the hill gazing at his feet and ignoring the rain that now began to fall steadily, he hoped that when he could come back to her, Renee would be waiting for him like she always had been in the past.

* * *

"We're in the clear," Buck announced, walking into the lobby in which his ODSTs and Renee were currently lounging. Mickey, who couldn't bear to be separated from his cat for long, was snuggling Brute on his lap. The weather's sudden change over to rain had caused them to abandon the idea of their basketball game entirely and retire indoors until things dried up again.

"The clear?" questioned Dutch from his relaxing spot in an armchair.

"Talked to Lord Hood just to confirm our leaving and he's given us the green light to head for Los Angeles as early as tomorrow morning. Even went through the trouble of securing us a private military plane for the flight home," explained Buck happily, "So if you haven't got your shit together, be sure to have it ready for the morning – we're going home."

The ODSTs let out a little cheer, and Renee, who was seated beside Mickey and giving Brute some loving attention by scratching him under his chin, smiled slightly. Brute was purring loudly, enjoying every second of the attention he was being given.

"You can't wait to come home with me, can you Brute?" Mickey asked the cat rhetorically.

"He proved to be a good mascot," Romeo remarked. He was lying lengthways on one of the expensive leather upholstered couches, looking rather comfortable, "Nobody got killed."

"Move your ass over, Romeo, you don't need that whole couch," ordered Buck, approaching him with intent on getting a spot on it. Reluctantly with a groan, Romeo made room for him. Buck dropped onto the couch heavily, letting out a sigh, "Sure feels good to relax."

"That's exactly what I was doing before you told me to move," Romeo muttered.

"Don't get sore," Buck answered plainly, "Mickey, Lil Sarge and the Rookie are on the other couch, and Dutch wouldn't like it much if I were to sit on his lap." He looked to Rookie, who was sitting on the other side of Mickey, patting Brute absentmindedly, "I still can't believe you spoke."

Rookie shrugged.

"It's an improvement," Dutch grinned, "Thought I'd never hear his voice."

"Did you find out if Veronica is coming home with us, too?" Mickey asked Buck.

"I think she might be," he answered, "Maybe not tomorrow, but eventually I think it's in her plans."

At that moment, a soaking-wet figure came in through the main lobby doors, a figure soon recognized to be John. Renee, surprised at seeing him, and in such a state, grew tense, sitting up straighter and watching him as he strode across the lobby, dripping, his wet sneakers squeaking on the floor. He was absolutely drenched from the rain, but he looked like he had jumped into a lake. His clothes were clinging to him, darkened by the water and making his paleness stand out more than usual. His hair wet looked black, and water droplets from it cascaded down his face. He looked cold.

He didn't even spare a glance in their direction as he headed past, but Renee was too curious to keep quiet.

"John!"

He stopped, and pivoted in her direction, his sneakers squeaking as he did. For a couple of seconds, he just looked at her, water dripping off him.

"You're soaking wet!" she couldn't think of anything better to say.

"Well, it's raining," John answered after a beat, seeming rather unconcerned. He turned and went to continue on, disturbed by the fact that she was sitting on the same couch as the Rookie. Perhaps he was being a little paranoid, but the idea of Renee being with anyone else but him disgusted him.

"What were you doing outside?" Renee asked.

"Walking," he finally said, his tone emotionless.

Renee took note of his strange behavior, and felt compelled to go with him, help him dry off, and see what was bothering him – or perhaps it was still the issue of the Spartan program being cancelled. Whatever it was, she was thrown off by his tone and mannerisms.

"Is there something wrong?" she got to her feet, and took a couple steps towards him, but John blatantly shook his head and strode off without another word. In disbelief, Renee watched him walk down the hallway briskly, round a corner and disappear. She stood there silent for a few long seconds, before turning and looking back at the ODSTs, who had all watched the scene unfold without so much as a word.

"He's pissed about somethin'," Dutch observed quietly with a shake of his head.

"They're all acting weird lately," Romeo announced, "First the Kelly one, now the Chief. Maybe the Top Brass has deactivated something in their brains and now they're all going nuts."

Buck gave him an odd look, accompanied with a sigh. Romeo's theory wasn't anything close. Thoughtfully, Buck looked to Renee, who hadn't moved from her spot. She was looking at them with all the color gone from her cheeks.

"You ok, Lil Sarge?" he asked her, "Is there anything going on between you and him you neglected to mention to us?"

Renee shook her head, not retaking her spot on the couch beside Mickey and Rookie. She continued to stand in the lobby, where she once again looked off in the direction John had gone. There was something amiss with John indeed, she realized. Surely it was still the issue of the Spartan program that was bugging him. He had perhaps gone outside for 'a walk' as he'd so plainly told her just to be alone and take advantage of the alone time to blow off some steam.

But why had he acted so cold to everyone, to her, to seem to want nothing to do with them?

"I'll be back," Renee told the ODSTs, jerking her thumb back over her shoulder in a gesture to where she was headed. She didn't wait for their replies before turning and jogging off down the hallway in the direction John had gone.

Following him wasn't too difficult; the wet and muddied footprints on the tiled floor gave his direction away. She followed them all the way to a closed door, which she realized was his temporary room. Taking a couple steps towards the door, she was surprised to not have it hiss open upon detecting her movement. He had the door locked.

This was unusual, in the past month Renee could not recall a moment where John had gone in his room and locked himself in. He always left it open, presumably for her to come calling. Now he had locked it, as if he wasn't expecting – or wanting, anyone to come in.

For a few seconds, Renee just stood outside the door, debating whether or not to knock or hit the buzzer. A part of her wanted to, but she couldn't manage to lift her arm to do it. Something told her that it would be a wasted effort anyway; she sensed that John wouldn't answer the door.

Renee felt hurt. She recalled the last time she had spoken to John before the incident in the lobby. She had come to his room and their conversation had ended abruptly by him telling her to leave. She felt so uncertain about her current situation with him. She felt an overwhelming urge to just speak to him, it always seemed to make it better in the past – but now John didn't seem to want to give her that opportunity.

Finally, she decided to turn and walk away from John's closed door, but not back in the direction she'd originally come. She wandered for a few meters uncertainly down the hallway, between the closed doors of the individual rooms, feeling shut out. She wouldn't dare go knocking on any of them, for she wasn't sure who was staying in them. The ODSTs were all out in the lobby, anyway – and she guessed that in these rooms the Spartans were staying.

A door ahead of her opened, and a tall, red-haired woman stepped out. Her body was pure chiseled muscle and she moved with grace unique only to the Spartans. Renee called out to her before she even thought twice:

"Linda!"

Linda turned to look at her unexpectedly. A brief expression of confusion crossed her features, but she addressed her back calmly:

"Sergeant?"

"Can I ask you a question?" Renee took a couple of uncertain steps towards the Spartan, feeling somewhat comforted in the fact that Linda knew John, in a way, better than she did. A quick nod of her head was Linda's way of answering. Her green eyes bore into Renee's curiously.

"Did you speak to Master Chief at all after the meeting?" Renee decided to play safe and use John's rank when addressing him. She was uncertain if Linda remembered her from 2535 or not.

"No; why?"

"He's been acting strange lately, and I'm wondering if you've taken notice, ma'am."

"We all haven't been ourselves, Sergeant," Linda said plainly, "Surely by now you've heard the orders we Spartans have received."

"Yes, and I'm sorry."

"Kelly-087 spoke to him after the meeting; ask her."

Renee suddenly felt uncertain about confronting Kelly, but she asked:

"Do you know where she might be?"

"Check her room, it's that one over there," Linda pointed her in the direction, and then continued walking off down the hallway. Renee called a 'thank-you' after her, to which Linda responded with a slight gesture with her hand, not looking back.

Renee went to the room that Linda had told her was Kelly's. Taking a moment to pause, she walked toward the door, hand reaching for the buzzer, expecting the doors to be locked. However, they weren't, and they hissed open.

Kelly, who was lying on her bed with her hands folded beneath her head, looked to the doorway, and saw Renee standing there. Her expression changed none, and she didn't even move. Renee met her eyes and straightened, clearing her throat – but Kelly spoke first:

"Sergeant? I take it you haven't made a mistake in room numbers?"

"No, I came to speak to you for a moment – but if there's a better time…"

"I'm not busy," Kelly said with a faint smirk, sitting up, "What is it?"

"I just spoke to Linda-058 and she told me I could find you here – and that you spoke to the Master Chief after the meeting," Renee tried to keep her voice steady.

"Yes…?" the Spartan nodded.

"Have you noticed a change in him?"

"You've heard the news, correct? About the Spartans?" Kelly quipped.

"Yes, it's awful."

Kelly let out a little mocking chuckle.

"It is; I've heard you and the ODSTs have it a little easier."

"That's not what I've…"

"I know what you've come here for," Kelly interrupted, "You've noticed a change in John, and you're asking us to see if we've noticed it too. Well yes, we have, Sergeant. He's got a hell of a lot of his plate, just as I do. He's been through a lot – and from what I've heard you have too," Kelly made a gesture at Renee's torso, "Almost fatally shot and later becoming comatose for years, quite a wakeup call that the war wasn't just a game."

"Who told you about that?" Renee asked softly, going pale at the mention of the incident.

"Why John did, of course. I realized today who you were and I asked him about you. He seemed reluctant to say. It's the first time he mentioned you to any of us – for a while I'd thought you'd been killed."

"It was close enough to being killed, had luck not been on my side I would've been."

"Then why are you back?" Kelly asked her, "It's not like you don't have a home to go to. Born and raised a civilian, were you not? You came with John because you felt it was what you should do."

"At the time," Renee answered, leaning against the doorframe. Her discomfort around Kelly was slowly diminishing as their conversation progressed. Kelly was testing her and she was eager to see what she would throw her way.

"Now you're second guessing yourself?" Kelly inquired, "And don't try to pretend like you came along because you actually cared about finding us. I know you don't, nor would I expect it of you. As you're standing in front of me now it's easy to see you haven't changed much since I last saw you – except for one important thing."

"What's that?" Renee found herself indifferent to the little verbal punches Kelly was tossing.

"It was what threw me off about you; it took me so long to realize who you were because you aren't at all interested in John. My memory of you was a little teenager who hardly deserved the rank she was given, who followed my Spartan leader around like a puppy, with your head in the clouds and nothing going through it but John, John, John." Kelly narrowed her eyes curiously, "If you don't mind me asking, what happened with that?"

For the first time since their conversation, Renee lowered her eyes to the floor and for a moment was silent before finally answering:

"He's not the same."

"Ah," Kelly leaned forward to rest her arm on her knee to support her head, "You should've known that would happen." She paused, "This sudden change in your devotion has nothing to do with the ODSTs?"

"What do you mean?" Renee met her eyes, "John has no problem with them, neither do they…"

"Or should I say one ODST," Kelly continued as if she didn't hear what Renee said.

"What? Who?"

"The silent one."

"Rookie?" Renee made a face.

"Oh, don't act silly, if your feelings have shifted to him don't deny it," Kelly told her, "And I won't go running off to John to tell him. He already has his suspicions anyway."

"What? No! The Rookie is my friend, just as the others are. Are you saying John suspects…"

Kelly shrugged.

"John may, he may not – but it is the least of his worries, I assure you."

"I have done nothing with the Rookie to even arouse suspicions that there is something between us. I've not forgotten that time you tried to keep John and I apart, and I'm letting you know right here and right now that I hope you do not think of doing that again."

"No," Kelly seemed uninterested, "What you and John have, or had, is none of my concern. What I did back in 2535 was justified; I was trying to keep John from being killed. It was an act of courtesy."

"Then why is John not speaking to me? Have you turned him against me?"

"I've done nothing," Kelly snapped icily, "Have respect for what he's dealing with. What we're dealing with."

"I do."

"Then don't come inquiring about him acting 'strange'; you know why he is," Kelly laid back down on her bed, non-verbally declaring the conversation as over. Renee nodded silently, and backed out of the room without another word.

**Six Hours Later**

John was torn from a sound sleep by a sound all too familiar – yet strangely foreign in this setting. A pistol shot – the M6D, by the sounds of things – an earsplitting crack that had ripped through his dreams and pulled him into consciousness.

For a moment, he was still in the darkness of his room, lying motionless in his bed – until he realized that the sound hadn't been in his dreams, and it was completely out of place.

With a quick motion, he'd pulled himself out of bed, uncomforted by the notion that his room was nowhere near the shooting range or the armory. The gunshot didn't belong. In fact, it sounded like it came from the next room - the next room?

Elsie.

Not caring that he was wearing just shorts and a t-shirt, he rushed out of his room, into the hallway, and next door to Elsie's room. There was an eerie silence now, his own bare feet sounded loud on the floor. His heart was pounding; adrenaline was pumping through his veins; a million questions were running through his head. Why would Elsie have a pistol in her room? Why would it have gone off at this time of night?

John's movement activated the automatic door to his fellow Spartan's room, and his foot had barely crossed the threshold when he was halted dead in his tracks. His breath caught in his throat, and instantaneously he felt all color leave his face. He could only stare. Seconds ticked by before he remembered to breathe, and when he did, it came out in a shaky breath, and John staggered forward, before dropping to his knees beside Elsie.

Elsie's body lay motionless on the floor; she was wearing the same camo fatigues and shirt she had been earlier. Her legs were folded beneath her, her arms by her sides. In one hand, she still held the pistol. There was a single entry wound in her temple, and her dark blood was still pooling out around her. Her eyes were wide but unseeing, her mouth open slightly. A trickle of blood had run from the corner of her mouth down her cheek.

John reached forward with a trembling hand, to feel her neck for a pulse, but he already knew what he'd find. She was dead. Shaking his head repeatedly, he looked down at her body, trying to contemplate what she'd done.

"No," he whispered, "No, no, no."

He remembered her words she'd said, words he realized now he should've taken seriously:

"_If I cannot live as a Spartan, I mind as well not live at all._"

He felt sick to his stomach. Glancing down, he'd seen her blood had reached him – he felt it still warm as it pooled around his leg, but he didn't move. He kept looking from the pistol in her hand, to the fatal wound in her head, to her empty eyes, her pretty face.

Dead, she was dead – he kept telling himself over and over, his brain unable to comprehend it. She had shot herself, committed suicide, taken her own life. She was dead.

Behind him, he heard the hissing of the door as it opened, and Buck's voice:

"What the hell was th…" it abruptly cut off as Buck no doubt took in the scene, "Oh Jesus."

Rushing footsteps of at least a couple more people could be heard. John didn't move. He just sat there, amongst the blood and beside Elsie's body.

"What's…" it was Dutch's voice.

"Stay back!" Buck ordered, "Go get Lord Hood and Dr. Halsey, immediately."

A gasp was heard, a female one that John recognized to be Renee's. He could sense her presence and Buck's behind him in the doorway.

"Elsie!"

"She's dead." John said, his voice was pained and monotone. He shut his eyes, hating the sound of the words as they left his mouth. Feeling an overwhelming amount of guilt, he leaned over Elsie's body, clasping her cold hand in his.

"Why'd you do it?" he whispered, pulling her head close to his chest, "Why'd you do it, Elsie?"

A strangled sob escaped him, as he rocked back and forth, holding her tight. There was no bringing her back, she was a Spartan, but nothing would make a difference. She was dead; gone forever. Never, not once had he ever thought it, ever thought any of the Spartans would take the news this hard. Hard enough to feel there was no way out, to feel the only solution was to end their life – but Elsie had. He couldn't help the one question that was racing through his mind over and over – _why_?

Silence fell over the room.

Renee stood motionless beside Buck in the doorway, tears welling up in her eyes. She'd never imagined that this would ever happen – there had been no signs. Of course all the Spartans were upset, but Elsie had been that rattled by it she had seen no alternative to _this_ – taking a pistol out of the armory, raising it to her head and pulling the trigger – something even Spartans couldn't survive.

Feeling numb, Renee robotically raised her hand to wipe away the tears, but they came anyway rolling down her cheeks. She had to tear her eyes away from the awful scene in front of her – she folded into Buck's chest. He pulled her close supportively; unable to shake the fact that he too was disturbed by what had happened.

"Come on," he whispered to Renee, still looking at the sad scene that was John hugging Elsie's dead body, "Let's go for a walk."

He led her out of the room, away from it all, knowing it would do her no good to see such sights. He was aware she wasn't as used to seeing death – if anyone could be used to it, that is. Buck didn't think it possible, he'd seen hundreds of people killed or lying dead in front of him, and each time, the effect remained the same.

To think, the Spartan had killed herself – this thought bewildered him.

Ahead, they saw Dutch leading pale-faced Dr. Halsey and grim-faced Lord Hood down the hallway to the room. Judging by the looks on their faces, it was easy to guess that he had informed them what had happened. Renee, they walked by, could see plain as day the pain on Dr. Halsey's face. Yes, she'd been told.

What would happen now? No doubt the morale of the Spartans would drop.

Renee thought of John, and once again got the image of him on the floor holding Elsie's body, covered in her blood. She felt pained for him, realizing how this would affect him. Immediately, she thought of staying. If John needed her at all, he'd need her now.

Glancing back to the doorway of Elsie's room, she saw Dr. Halsey enter, no doubt to comfort John, but Lord Hood remained in the doorway, and told Dutch to go fetch the medical technicians. Others began to arrive, the Spartans, the ODSTs.

The ODSTs went straight to Buck for answers, who still was comforting Renee.

"What's going on?" Mickey demanded, glancing back at the crowd that was forming around the room.

"Elsie committed suicide," Buck said lowly.

"Shit," Romeo cursed, sorrow crossing his features, and Mickey shook his head with a sad sigh of disbelief. Rookie, who stood silently behind Mickey and Romeo, glanced back at the room, a visible look of sadness on his features. He glanced to Renee, who was now leaning against the wall, trying to control herself. However, no matter how deeply she seemed to breathe, tears rolled down her cheeks.

Two medical technicians hurried past, wheeling a stretcher, and lying on it, a black body bag. Renee shielded her eyes from it, hugging herself. She couldn't get the images from her head, nor could accept the fact that Elsie was dead. She had been so nice, so beautiful, so talented – a hero. Now she was dead – and by her own hand. Just like that.

She looked again down the hallway, and saw the Spartans, both from John's team and the Spartan III's, as they, for the first time, wore readable expressions on their faces - expressions of sadness. Renee spotted Kelly, who looked almost like she was going to be sick. Frederic put a comforting hand on her shoulder and muttered something, to which Kelly shook her head. Linda stood silently between them, looking in the room, observing the scene.

It seemed like slow-mode as the medical technicians emerged and everyone stepped aside as they wheeled out the stretcher, now containing Elsie's body within the body bag. The hallway fell deathly silent as they wheeled her past. Lord Hood, standing amongst the Spartans, took off his hat and bowed his head, then glanced to within the room.

Dr. Halsey emerged, her arm linked with John's. She led him from the room like he was a child. It was a sore sight. John's eyes were glued on his bloodied hands that he held out before him, but he seemed to stare right through them. His mouth hung open in disbelief, his white t-shirt stained red, seeming oblivious to everyone around him. Kelly said something to him, but he didn't acknowledge it. He followed Dr. Halsey numbly, through the crowd.

Renee, fighting back her tears, took a step towards John as he went to pass her and the ODSTs. She momentarily met Dr. Halsey's sad eyes, and then she looked up to John's face. He was still looking at his hands. She said his name, and reached out and touched his arm.

There was a brief moment where John raised his eyes and met hers – and for a full second, he conveyed all emotion to her, and she could read his face like a book. Biting her lip, she could only give him a sympathetic look, at a loss for words.

Then, John was gone past her, off down the hallway.

Renee's knees grew weak, and uncontrollably, she collapsed onto the floor.

**A/N: **A pivotal and moving chapter. I'll be interested to hear all of your opinions. - AB


	33. Decisions

**Chapter 33: Decisions**

**October 6****th**** 2553 – UNSC Military Base – Florida – USA - Earth**

It was the middle of the night when Renee awoke to a darkened room. Almost instantly, a rush of memories came back to her – finding Elsie dead in her room, John clutching her in his arms; the horror of seeing John be escorted from the room by Dr. Halsey, covered in his fellow Spartan's blood; the memory of she herself, falling into a muffled state of shock and being taken back to her room by the Rookie and Buck. She had cried softly to herself on her bed for a while, not caring about the presence of the two ODSTs, until finally she had fallen asleep.

Ignoring the pain the memories brought back to her, Renee sat up on her bed, wondering what time it was. Glancing to her bedside alarm clock, the bold red numbers informed her it was early in the morning, four-thirty-six to be exact. That's when she noticed Rookie sitting across the room in the desk chair, slumped and asleep himself. Buck must've informed him to stay and watch over her.

She realized then her overactive mind had awoken her – even now in the dark room her mind was abuzz, it was if she never rested. She couldn't stop thinking about what had happened, Elsie's suicide and how it had affected John.

John…

She wondered what he was doing and where he was at this exact moment. At the thought of him and what a wreck he still must be brought tears to her eyes once more. It was the morning of October sixth, the day that she was supposed to be going home to Los Angeles. In the moments before she had fallen asleep she had heard Buck mutter something about a funeral for Elsie and the fact that they would be heading home afterwards, but Renee wondered if she could leave now, if she should leave John at this awful time.

Still sitting up, Renee let out a sigh that seemed very loud in the quiet of the room, and ran her fingers through her hair that made it stand on end. She didn't care. She couldn't get the images out of her head. Every time she closed her eyes she saw John holding Elsie's limp, bloody body in his arms. The gun that she'd used to kill herself lying on the floor; the medical technicians wheeling Elsie's body away in a black body bag. Awful, awful images.

_Now I think I can understand_, she told herself, _if this is anything like John or the Rookie experienced with their diagnosed PTSD, I can understand now_. She felt haunted by the memories.

A movement out of the corner of her eye caused her to look in Rookie's direction, and through the darkness she had seen he had lifted his head from his hand where it had been resting, and was no doubt awake. Now, she wondered, would this be a time for him to speak? Sometimes he did, sometimes he didn't.

This time, he did. His raspy voice cut through the silence:

"Are you okay?"

"I think so," she nodded, "I just… I'm just having a hard time getting… what happened… off my mind."

He shifted in the chair, and through the darkness she saw him do something she guessed was a nod. There wasn't much he could say to that.

"Is there anything you need?" he asked after a beat.

"I hate to ask, but could you get me some water?" Renee said, "Please."

Rookie nodded and was up in a moment, heading for the door,

"I'll be right back."

In the short time he would be gone, Renee tried to take the time to get better control of herself. There was much of an urge to cry again and she didn't want to, not in front of Rookie, it would be a burden to him and also unpleasant for him to deal with. He'd feel it was his job to comfort her and he'd attempt it awkwardly. She knew the closest water cooler was just down the hallway and he'd be back quickly with a cup, so she took several deep breaths and tried her best to push the images out of her head.

Rookie came back within a minute, not bothering to turn the light on in the room. He handed her the paper cup full of cold water in silence and she thanked him, which he also responded to silently. Renee put the cup to her lips and the cold water was soothing to her dry throat. Rookie, she noticed, remained standing until she finished drinking it all.

"Do you want me to get you more?" he asked rigidly.

"No, thank you. That hit the spot," Renee gave him a small smile. She dropped the cup in the wastebasket beside the bed, and let out a sigh. She remembered what Kelly had said, about her assuming she had a love affair with Rookie. She looked up to Rookie's face in the dark, his features not quite clear and the emotion he wore on his face - if there was any - was in shadow. Sighing again, she declared, "I fear I won't be able to forget what I saw tonight."

"Some things you can't forget," Rookie sat down on the edge of her bed, not meeting her eyes, "Yes, I suppose so," Renee said, "Eighteen years ago I watched my childhood friend die right in front of my eyes. I'll never forget it. I'll never forget his face, or what he said to me. Ever."

"I'm sorry," Rookie told her. She felt the weight of his hand fall on her shoulder. It lingered there for a moment, until he finally let it fall back onto his lap.

"Thank you for this; you don't have to stay here just because Buck asked you to," she told him earnestly.

"It sounded like an order," Rookie smirked.

"Ah, well then, best not question it – but are you sure you'll be comfortable in the chair?"

"Yes," Rookie got up and walked over to it. Sitting down, he declared, "I've slept in stranger places." A pause, "Try getting some sleep, it may be hard, but… if you're tired, you'll sleep." He said an awful lot that time and it sounded like he was hesitant to do so.

Renee nodded, and let herself fall back onto her pillow with a sigh. She stared at the ceiling for the longest time, trying to calm her mind down. Eventually, her thoughts narrowed until they focused on one person – John. She couldn't stop worrying about him – and she guessed, that even at this time of night, John wasn't asleep. No, he couldn't be asleep.

Abruptly, she sat up again, this time, throwing back the covers. Getting to her feet, she saw Rookie raise his head slightly to look at her questioningly. Meeting his eyes, she declared:

"There's just one thing I have to do. I'll be back."

Walking out of the room, she didn't care that she was in a pair of boxers and a tank top and nothing else. The floor was cold on her bare feet and she squinted as her eyes adjusted to the brightness of the hallway. Almost fumbling her way down the hallway to the direction of John's room, she paused at the door, and realized once again he had it locked.

This time, she didn't hesitate. She hit the buzzer, waited a couple of seconds, and when there was no answer, she buzzed it again. Her heart was in her throat; her mind was racing, playing awful tricks on her – somewhere a part of her feared that John had done the same thing as Elsie had earlier. This caused a sort of unsettling panic that caused her to hit the buzzer almost instantly after the second time. When, once again, there was no answer, she went to hit it again – then a light on the number panel blinked green and there was a beeping sound. It seemed like an eternity as the automatic doors hissed open, and she saw John, leaning heavily on the doorframe, looking like he'd been through hell and back. His face portrayed exhaustion and stress, and there was something cold and distant about his eyes. When he saw it was her, something in his expression changed, but only slightly.

The sight of him made Renee's eyes fill with tears.

"I can't sleep," She confessed in a choked voice, "I see you can't either."

John, his large body filling the entire span of the doorway, didn't move, but he let out a heavy sigh. A couple seconds passed where they both just looked at each other, but at the same second, they both fell into each other's arms. John squeezed her as tight as he knew she could handle, and he could feel her arms locked around him.

They both felt the same way and they knew it. Comfort was found in each other for the first time in a while, and John, with tightness in his chest, guided her to his bed where they both sat down on it, holding each other close, heads bowed and mourning.

Renee was crying silently, tears rolling down her cheeks and quiet sobs shaking her body. She buried her face in John's neck, her arms tight around him and his own tight around her. At that moment, she never wanted to let go. They needed each other and, for a long while, neither of them spoke.

Finally, when she could manage words, Renee said:

"I'm so sorry." Placing a hand on John's face, she met his eyes, "Her death isn't your fault, don't think it is…"

John tore his eyes away from hers, shaking his head.

"Either way, I will need time…"

"Yes, yes, I know – and if you want me here with you, I can stay."

"No, Renee," John told her, his voice sounded sad, "You go home, like you planned. Don't let this change anything."

"But it does, you need me," she objected, "What kind of person would I be if I were to leave you now?"

"It'd be best if you went home. This is goodbye, but not forever. I need time alone, Renee, more than ever. Surely you understand that."

"I just want to make sure you'll be okay," she sniffed, holding back tears, "You're not okay now."

"Nor will I be for a long time," an expression of pain crossed John's face, "And the only way I can hope to cope is to do it my own way – and that's alone. I've always grieved alone."

Renee knew it was no use arguing with him. John had his methods of dealing with death, and she knew she shouldn't question them. Solemnly, she nodded.

"Okay," she said.

He pulled her close again, letting out a heavy sigh. He hadn't slept, nor did he expect to for at least a few days. The images were still fresh in his head, and no matter how many times he washed his hands, he could still feel Elsie's blood on his hands. Dr. Halsey had helped him some after the incident, prescribed him some pills that were supposed to help, he didn't even remember what they were called, or really, what they were supposed to do. She'd told him at the time, but he hadn't heard. Everything immediately after Elsie's death was a mere blur in his memory. Poor Dr. Halsey, she'd been shocked too, he'd remembered that much, as were his other Spartans.

The question he continued to ask himself was _why. _Why had Elsie thought killing herself to be the only option? The only way out? There was a future for her, or at least he had seen it. Perhaps she hadn't. There was so much about Elsie he felt he didn't know – even though she'd explained to him her story, both before and after becoming a Spartan. She'd been so happy when she'd found her Spartan III's, then, the news of the cancellation of the program…

John wanted to kill each and every member of the Top Brass for making the decision. It was _their _fault – their decision had cost the life of Elsie. The decision had hurt her so badly and shattered her idea of the future so much that she saw no other option than to put a pistol to her head and pull the trigger. When he was done mourning, when he felt he could handle it, John decided that he would personally pay a visit to the Top Brass, wherever they were located. He would inform them of the death of Elsie G153 and that her death was their fault – he didn't care what they'd do to him.

He didn't care about anything at the moment. He was so angry, so upset, so shocked. He was a ball of emotions and he struggled with how to handle them. Renee coming to him and just being there to comfort him was something he realized he'd been subconsciously wanting. Despite his frustration earlier and suspicions of her loving that ODST, that was petty compared to what had been dropped on him. All he wanted now was to be comforted, just enough to suit him, then to delve into seclusion for a long time, until time was right that he felt he could face reality again – and maybe bring himself to go home to Renee – although that thought at the present was nearly inconceivable. All he could think of was Elsie, the memory of finding her dead on the floor, the pistol in her hand, the hole in her temple, the blank, staring look in her blue eyes that had once been sparkling with liveliness. Her blood pooling out across the tiled floor, how it was still warm to the touch when he pulled her body to him, pleading that she wasn't dead, that it was all a dream. Dr. Halsey's weak hand touching his shoulder, as the medical technicians had to practically wrestle Elsie's dead body from his arms; how they put her into that body bag and zippered her up and he saw her face for the last time.

John realized then just how tight his grip had become on Renee's arm. She hadn't protested, but he knew it was beyond his usual, so he quickly let go, watching the imprints of his fingers around her arm appear then fade as quickly as they'd come. He let out a sigh.

"It's late; tomorrow will be a long day for you, heading home. Try to get some rest," the words came from John's mouth almost automatically. Why was it that everything he did or said now seemed robotic? He hadn't the energy to muster more than slight expression in his voice and didn't gesture while speaking. He was aware each time he blinked his eyelids closed heavily and he had to practically force them open again. His lips seemed numb and very much like jelly, and his throat was dry and a lump had formed that hadn't gone away since Elsie's death. He was a mess, he knew, and trying to take his own advice wasn't a bad idea. However, as much as he wanted to perhaps lie his head down on the cool pillow, close his eyes and drift to sleep, he knew even if his thoughts let him there, his dreams would wake him soon enough. There wasn't a point, he decided.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Renee nod. She leaned in to give him a hug that seemed to last a long while, and when she pulled back, she kissed him gently on the cheek. Almost surprised by it, John raised his head to follow her as she got to her feet and approached the door. He half expected her to say something on her way out, but she didn't. He stared after her until she left the room and the doors hissed shut.

John got up off his bed, and in one swift move, slammed his hand against the lock button and the door buzzed. Turning around, he slid down the wall to the floor, going back to what he'd been doing before she'd come – staring senselessly at the wall opposite him.

* * *

When Renee awoke – she had managed to sleep again after all – she saw the bedside clock read eight fourteen. With a glance past the clock, she saw the chair where Rookie had been was empty. He must've been relieved of his duty.

Sitting up, she tried to shake off the memories of the night before, but they seemed to plague her as soon as she woke. They luckily hadn't entered her dreams as she thought they might do, and for that she was grateful. She'd gotten _some _rest, but not a lot. She still felt tired.

Running her fingers through her hair, which she knew was already standing on end, she spotted something on the bedside table that hadn't been there when she'd gone to sleep. It was a piece of paper, and when she snatched it off the table to get a better look, she saw it was a handwritten note, scribbled down hastily. It said:

"_You were still sleeping when Buck came to relieve me – I didn't see it fit to wake you. We're still leaving today, we have a flight out at 1600 hrs (private jet) – should be a few hrs flight, we're to be back in LA at approx 1700 hrs Pacific Time. Pack your things if you haven't already – but leave one thing out - your dress uniform. A memorial service is being held at 1300 hrs for Elsie. If you're looking for us, we'll be in the mess hall. Over 'n' out – R"_

Despite being written quickly, Rookie's penmanship was surprisingly neat, Renee noted. At the mention of Elsie made shivers run down her spine. That's right, she remembered someone mentioning something about her memorial service being held today. She let out a sigh, realizing it wasn't over yet, that she'd have to deal with the feelings of sadness and grief once more – and publically. The expression of such feelings – tears – would be almost impossible when accompanied by at least two heart wrenching speeches by those who knew Elsie best. Would John speak, she wondered?

She was uncertain if anyone _really _had known Elsie. There was so much left to be wondered about her. She had been the last survivor of Gamma Team and one of the last of the Spartan III's. When one had looked into her bright blue eyes, they were always swimming with emotion - translucent into her soul - but what lied within was what was indistinguishable.

Renee had been almost entirely packed the night before, save for the casual military uniform she was going to wear home. Almost reluctantly, with a lump in her throat, she took out her starched white dress uniform that she had folded neatly into her bag just yesterday. Making sure the pin of Sergeant hadn't fallen off, she then folded her dress pants on the bottom of a clothes hanger, and then draped the dress shirt, tie and white dress jacket overtop, and hung the hanger on the rack. Situating her dress shoes and hat on the floor of the closet beneath the uniform, she then stood back to make sure it looked okay. She recalled the last time she'd worn a dress uniform: also during a memorial back in 2535 aboard the _Hercules _following the casualties on the planet Lacerta. She recalled that was the day that Troy Fisher, fresh from being promoted from Junior Lieutenant to Lieutenant, had promoted her and Amy from Privates to Corporals. It had been an unexpected event.

Now here she was, nineteen years later, a Sergeant, attending a memorial being held for a Spartan III that had committed suicide because she had felt there had been no other choice. Renee had never hoped to attend another military memorial, to see another dead body, but since this mission began she had seen her fair share. She recalled the incident with the Insurrectionists, seeing those who had been interrogating her shot dead right in front of her eyes, and Troy's brother, Scottie, not long to follow them as John barreled in to save her life. Lastly, the most unexpected, hearing the gunshot and coming to Elsie's room to find her dead.

More than she ever had, she wondered now why she had come on this mission. She'd been beaten nearly to death by Insurrectionists, saw death and suffering, and her relationship with John was now on the rocks. What she'd experienced in the past month almost rivaled her two years of service back in '35 – and then she realized how truly happy she'd be to go home.

* * *

Time passed slowly, but finally the time came to attend the memorial in the base courtyard for Elsie. Although specifically open to those who knew her well, others who worked at the base attended, and there was a rather large crowd when Renee arrived, but she quickly spotted the ODSTs and saw they had saved a spot for her in the line formations. Solemnly taking a look around as she walked to the row the ODSTs had chosen, Renee saw Lord Hood at a podium, and beside him, Dr. Halsey and John-117. Behind them in a neat row, stood the Spartans, looking strangely out of place in their dress uniforms. Off to the right of Lord Hood was a table draped with black cloth and decorated with flowers, and on it, was Elsie's coffin, draped with the flag of the UNSC. On top of the coffin in a frame was a rather large picture of Elsie - the only one that probably existed – the one from her military file. In the picture, she wasn't smiling, but not frowning either. Her blonde hair was buzzed, her mouth was a straight line, and as usual her eyes seemed electrifying in their color and the gaze they carried. Not too far from the coffin stood seven soldiers with battle rifles, responsible for the firing of the twenty-one gun salute.

Seeing the picture and the coffin as Renee fell in beside Buck, she felt tears spring to her eyes and she had to lower her gaze to her feet. Buck took note of this and he reached over to grab her hand supportively, giving it a comforting squeeze. If it wasn't such a sad setting, Renee would've commented the ODSTs on how well they all looked in their dress uniforms, possibly even made a joke, but she couldn't muster it, not now. Instead, she squeezed Buck's hand back, and taking a deep breath, raised her head to look at those standing nearest the podium.

Lord Hood was waiting for the last few stragglers to filter in and find seats. He looked professional, yet grim in his usual garb of the white dress uniform. Beside him, Dr. Halsey for once wasn't in her usual tattered lab coat, and had been given a dress uniform for the situation's sake. Of course she bore no rank, but she looked if she could, her appearance in the uniform was authoritative, but her expression was bleak and sad. John, standing beside her at almost two heads taller, in his dress uniform loaded down with medals, carried a similar if not more morbid expression – and it was worn all over his face that he hadn't gotten any sleep the night before.

The last people must have arrived, for Lord Hood cleared his throat and began:

"As most of you know, last night we were unfortunate to lose one of our own, Spartan III Elsie-153 of Gamma Team. She served in the UNSC for twenty-seven years, and completed missions that most of us cannot imagine. She survived the augmentations and being separated from her family at a young age; she learned and trained to become one of the UNSC's best soldiers. She saved countless lives and served Humanity without question. A Spartan, a soldier, a teammate, a friend; her death is a shock and an incredible loss for us all. She made many of our days brighter with her kind gaze and light smile, she made us laugh with the wry remarks she always seemed to have. We will never forget her and what she did for the good of humanity and for the UNSC, and of course, how she affected us on personal levels. Whether you fought alongside her, shared may good conversations, joined her in the gym for a workout, or just happened to see her in the mess hall or salute her on your way down the hallway, please take this time to join me in a moment's silence to remember her for who she was, not only as a soldier, but as a person."

Lord Hood finished, and lowered his head and removed his hat, as did everyone else. With the speech, Renee was crying quietly, and although she bowed her head and tried to suppress it, she couldn't help her shoulders as they shook uncontrollably. She still hadn't let go of Buck's hand.

A dead silence fell over the crowd, save for an occasional sniffle or clearing of one's throat. The moment of silence seemed to go on forever, and for John and his Spartans, it was the longest moment of his life. He stood rigidly, his head bowed, completely composed, yet aching inside. His chest felt tight and he could hear his heart pounding in his ears – until ahead of him he saw Lord Hood raise his head, and after him, everyone else. Lord Hood turned his head towards the seven soldiers who were waiting patiently.

The sound of them lifting their rifles to take aim seemed to echo in the silence that still prevailed – then the seven rifles firing in perfect sync seemed impossibly loud. Hearing the cracks, Renee felt a chill run down her spine, a haunting sound. They fired again, and they echoed once more. The final seven shots cracked loudly after what seemed an eternity, and seemed to linger forever in the fallen silence, a chilling symbol of the memory of Elsie that would linger forever in everyone's minds.

* * *

Renee returned to her room immediately after the memorial, her eyes puffy and nose red from crying. The memorial had to have been one of the most heart wrenching things she'd ever experienced – and to file past Elsie's coffin and lay a rose on top of it seemed like the most difficult thing she'd ever had to do. She was haunted by the thought that a similar memorial must have been held for Troy when he had been killed, and realized that if she had barely gotten through Elsie's, attending Troy's would've been an awful experience.

Trying to get her mind off it and regain her composure, she realized she'd be heading home in less than two hours. The flight left at 1600 hours, but they needed to be ready to board at least a half hour before. Home, she'd finally be going home, after two months of what seemed to be the most grueling service she'd ever put in.

Making sure her bag was packed, and checking that her dress uniform was still looking fine (they decided that they'd wear it home), Renee slung her knapsack over her shoulder and left her room. Up ahead of her, Rookie was doing the same, exiting his room with his knapsack in hand. He spotted her, his expression still grim from the memorial. They met each other halfway, both heading in the same direction where the ODSTs agreed to meet (the main lobby), and Rookie threw a heavy arm around her shoulders.

"How are you?" he asked lowly in his scratchy-sounding voice.

"I'll manage," Renee sniffed, wiping at her nose, "It was hard to go through… that memorial. I neglected to mention, you look sharp in your dress uniform," she sniffled again, forcing a small smile to come to her face.

"Thanks," Rookie answered almost bashfully, letting his arm fall from around her shoulders, "You too, Lil Sarge." He paused as a few low-ranking soldiers passed them before speaking again, "Excited for home?"

Renee thought for a moment. She had almost forgotten that he'd be staying with her, and realized she'd be glad for his company. Thinking also of seeing pregnant Amy, Wayne and their son, and even her parents, she realized she was quite glad to be going home.

"Yes," she nodded.

"It's still alright?" Rookie asked quietly, seeming hesitant, "Me staying with you, I mean?"

"Of course, you can stay as long as you need – it's not like I'll be having anyone else for a long time."

"Thank you. I appreciate it."

"Don't mention it – oh, there's Buck! Hey Eddie!" Renee saw him ahead, obviously heading for the lobby with his bag of thing, and when he turned around she waved at him.

"You're in better cheer, that's good to see," Buck remarked, slowing to allow her and Rookie to catch up with him, "And Rookie, you saying any more?"

"A few things," Renee answered, smiling.

"You dog you," Buck grinned at Rookie, "Sayin' a lot to her and hardly anything to us! I should be offended."

"Give him time," Renee nudged Rookie, who had once again gone silent, remarking with a shrug of his shoulders and a small grin.

"It's a shame, that memorial. Poor Elsie – she was only young. A talented and pretty soldier," Buck declared with a shake of his head, "I always could see her going places, whether it was Spartan-related or not."

"She'll be missed," said Renee lowly, the thought of Elsie causing a lump to once again form in her throat. She glanced ahead and saw they had nearly reached the lobby, and even from the distance she could see that Mickey and Romeo were lounging all over the lobby furniture, waiting for them. Dutch was a few feet away, talking on one of the telephones.

Dutch was the first to spot them:

"There they are!" he declared to the others, cupping his hand momentarily over the receiver.

"Hey Gunny," Romeo spoke to Buck as they approached, "I spoke quickly to Lord Hood, he says there'll be a car taking us from here to the airfield, should be around at 1530 hours."

"Excellent," Buck sighed, dropping into a leather arm chair.

Renee and Rookie took a seat on one of the couches, setting their bags at their feet. Rookie slouched back on the couch rather comfortably, folding his arms behind his head. Renee was thankful for the comfortable furniture, and glanced across to Mickey who had his knapsack and Brute in his cage sitting at his feet.

"How you doing, Lil Sarge?" Mickey met her eyes, "You weren't too great at the memorial."

"I'm as well as I can be," she answered.

"Who's Dutch calling?" Buck asked.

"His wife," Romeo replied, "He couldn't wait to call her and tell her he was on his way home."

Renee glanced over to Dutch as he was speaking quietly into the phone. His expression his face was happy, a true smile on his lips as he spoke. At that moment, she thought of calling Amy – and wondered why she hadn't done it earlier. If Amy answered her phone, she'd be ecstatic to hear her voice and learn she was coming home.

She waited until Dutch finished, before getting up and making her way to the phone. Surprisingly, she remembered Amy's number, and dialed it along with the area code. She raised the receiver to her ear and it was the first ring when the ODSTs yelled over to her, wondering who she was calling.

"My friend back in LA!" she said, cupping the receiver for a moment, before turning her attention back to the phone. It was on the third ring. Pause. On the fourth, someone picked up halfway through. A male's voice, Wayne's, she realized, answered:

"Hello?"

"Wayne?" Renee asked.

"Yes, who's speaking?"

"Renee!"

"Oh, Renee! What a surprise!"

There was a pause and Renee could hear Amy in the background repeat her name in disbelief:

"Holy shit, Wayne, gimme that!"

"Amy wants to speak to you," Wayne told her with a chuckle. There was a sound of the phone being handed over, then Amy almost deafened Renee:

"Renee! Finally, I was wondering when I'd hear something from you, you crazy girl! How are you?"

Renee paused, pondering whether to tell her the truth or sprinkle it with happiness until she could tell her the whole story.

"I'm fine, Amy. How are you? The baby? And the boys?"

"We're all doing great," Amy said with a laugh, "The men are surviving my pregnancy mood-swings – I'm eighteen weeks along, and it's not hard to tell!"

"That's great – I'm so happy for you!"

"Yeah, well, Corporal Kilburn, you gonna be home for when I shove this one out?"

"Sergeant, now, actually."

"Sweet Jesus, you must've kissed a lot of ass in these past two months. Congrats! When you coming home?"

"My plane leaves in two hours."

Renee had to hold the phone away from her ear to save her ears from the blunt force of the shriek Amy let out.

"My fuck! It's been too long! Today? You'll be home today! Yes, Troy, Wayne! Renee's coming home today! Do you know what time, Sergeant?"

"Approximately 1700 hours your time."

"Shit, that military time…"

"5 PM, Amy."

"Right, well, you can expect us waiting outside the military base – that's how you'll be coming home? Not the public airport?"

"Right."

"Well, don't worry about having a drive home, we're your taxi!"

"Thanks, you'll have room for one besides me?"

"John? Of course. How is he, anyway?"

Renee paused, swallowing and taking a deep breath. For a moment, she wasn't sure what to say.

"Renee?"

"John's not coming home, Amy."

There was silence for a moment.

"What do you mean?" her friend's voice was soft, "He's not…"

"No, he's alive, he's fine. He's just… not coming home right now."

"Why the fuck not!" Amy demanded, instantly back to her old self, "Put him on the phone, I'll tell the bastard where to go if he's not coming home!"

"He's not around. It's hard to understand, I know, but it's personal for him. I'll explain it better to you when I'm back."

"Something tells me I'm not going to agree one bit with whatever reason John has not to come home…" Amy sounded disapproving, "So who the hell are you bringing home?"

"The Rookie."

"Who?"

"He's an ODST, and doesn't have any place to stay – he was on the mission with John and I – I told him he could stay with me for as long as he needs."

"Is there something you're trying to tell me?" Amy questioned, "John's not coming home for reasons that are 'personal' to him, and you're bringing home one of them Helljumpers in his place? This Rookie – you fucking him?"

"No. He's my teammate, and friend. That's where it ends."

"Good; you have a lot to tell me when you come back, Renee."

"Yes I do."

"Well, I guess we'll see you in a few hours, then."

"Yes – I can't wait to see you!"

"Same, it's been too long. See you soon, Sarge," Amy chuckled.

"See you soon."

Renee hung up, and let out a sigh. It was true, she did have a lot to tell Amy – but she was glad that would be there to listen. Hearing her friend's voice reminded her of how much she had missed her and wasn't conscious of it.

She walked back over to join the ODSTs, forcing herself to smile as she sat down beside Rookie. She realized how much she was itching to get on that plane and go home. That's when she thought of John, and instantly something pulled at her heart. She knew by leaving without John she'd be leaving a piece of her heart here. She wasn't sure when John would come back – he hadn't even given her an estimate, and she had been feeling too sorry for him to ask for one.

She hadn't seen John since the memorial, and there he had looked awful, weighed down by the events of the last twelve hours. A part of her told her that it wasn't right to leave him like this, but last night he had assured her that it was.

Would she even be able to give him a proper goodbye? Or was their conversation last night be the last she'd speak to him for an uncertain amount of time? Could she hold on to him? Could she wait for him? When all she had to hold onto were distant, sweet memories from nineteen years ago and a few good memories from the last couple of months amongst a bunch of ones she'd rather not recall?

What scared Renee the most was that she wasn't sure if she could.

* * *

Sooner than they realized, 1530 hours was upon them – and they found themselves waiting at the door for the car to pull up and take them to the airfield. Renee had managed to not let her thoughts bother her too much and participated in light, casual conversation with the ODSTs. The time had passed quicker than she expected. Now as she stood by the doors, gazing out expectantly for the car to come, the knapsack on her shoulder felt especially heavy and her legs tired. She could nap easily on airplanes, and she figured she'd have no problem getting to sleep on the flight home. It had been a demanding last couple of months, and it was if suddenly all of the exhaustion from it suddenly had hit her in one fell swoop.

A movement caught the corner of her eye, and she turned – and was surprised by who she saw standing in the hallway. She barely heard the ODSTs as they said something about the car arriving, and they began to head outside.

Buck reached out to Renee's shoulder, thinking she'd gone off in a trance, but when she saw who she was looking at, he simply gave her a pat.

"Be quick as you can," he muttered.

Renee barely paid him mind as he headed outside, unable to take her eyes off John, who stood several feet from her, still wearing his dress uniform. He had had the job, along with several of the Spartans, of carrying Elsie's coffin to where it would be buried, and she guessed he had stayed to witness her burial. She spotted a smudge of dirt on his white pant leg, and the smudges on his spit shined shoes, but quickly met his eyes again.

"I guess this is goodbye," she spoke first.

John took a few steps forward and wordlessly took her into a hug. They were silent as they held each other in a stiff embrace. Renee took this moment to inhale his scent, something she hadn't paid any attention to do in the longest time. Letting out a sigh he'd been suppressing, he answered:

"Goodbye, but not forever."

Renee pulled back so that she could meet his eyes.

"Do you promise me?" she asked.

John stared at her for a long time, until he finally answered – but not the one she was expecting.

"I will try my best."

In disbelief, Renee tore her gaze from his, feeling a lump forming in her throat, shaking her head. She felt his hands reach towards her, but she took a step backwards, brushing them away, shying from his touch. She refused to meet his eyes:

"You won't promise," she said lowly, "You could never come home, and I'd wait for nothing…"

"Renee…" John started, but stopped himself.

She met his eyes fiercely, fighting back tears. Without further ado, she snapped to attention and gave him a sharp salute that would've impressed her drill instructor two months ago.

"Goodbye, Master Chief, sir," she said.

John couldn't muster a reply, as he watched her turn on her heel and walk out the door, down the steps, into the waiting car. Then she was gone.

**A/N: **Things haven't quite died down yet. Hope you enjoyed as always. – AB


	34. Home

**Chapter 34: Home**

**October 6****th****, 2553 – UNSC Military Base - Los Angeles, California, USA – Earth**

Renee was jostled awake just as the airplane touched down on the runway. Roused from the comfortable position she'd managed to get in, she was left to sleepily glance out the window to see the runway flying past, hear the screeching of the breaks, and feel the lurching in her stomach and the tug of the seatbelt around her waist as the plane that had been travelling over five hundred miles per hour was brought to a near dead stop in so little as several hundred feet. As the airplane slowed, and began its lazy crawl towards the terminal to meet a few technicians wheeling forward a terminal staircase, Renee looked around the cabin to see the ODSTs, some of them waking just as she was, and others, wide awake. She was amused to see Rookie, still asleep across the aisle from her, dead to the world, his head leaning against the window, his mouth hanging open slightly.

Buck, who looked to have been wide awake for a while, glanced around the cabin as well, and made eye contact with her, a smile coming to his face:

"Have a good sleep?" he asked, straining to look over his shoulder back at her.

"Yes, actually," Renee answered, moving her jaw back in forth to try and rid herself of her plugged ears due to the change of altitude, "Never thought I would on an airplane."

"You and Rookie were out for most of the flight," Buck said with amusement, "Not sure who fell asleep first."

"Lil Sarge did!" Dutch's voice came from behind her seat, "I saw her conked out within the first twenty minutes."

"We're home!" Romeo shot up from his seat behind Rookie's to lean over and give him a shake, "Wake up, you! We're here!"

Rookie startled awake, but when he realized what was happening, a look of calm opposed to confusion overtook his features. Much was hazy for both he and Renee as they blinked away sleepiness and the ODSTs around them chattered enthusiastically as the plane grew ever closer to stopping.

When it finally stopped, and towards the head of the cabin, one of the airplane technicians helped to unlatch the heavy door and the cabin depressurized, even from their seats they could feel a blast of warm Californian air fly in.

The sign to remove seatbelts blinked on, and all at once the ODSTs and Renee were on their feet and fumbling in the narrow aisle for their bags stored in the overhead compartments. Renee sleepily bumped into Buck, who looked at her sleepy face with a smile.

"You need a coffee," he remarked.

"Buy me one, Gunny," she retorted, slinging her knapsack over her shoulder. She was half-surprised when Buck nodded in agreement.

"Fair enough."

Dutch, who allowed not much to get past him, heard them, and pouted in protest:

"If you're buying coffee, Gunny, better get us all one."

"Agreed!" Mickey shouted.

"Second that agreement!" Romeo said.

"What makes you think I should empty my wallet for some motley crew of Helljumpers like you?" Buck demanded, but it could be seen on his face that he had no real problem with getting them all a coffee.

"Oh get movin' Gunny! Line's goin'!" shouted Dutch, after seeing Mickey, with his knapsack on his back and Brute in his cage, made his way to the front of the cabin and exited the plane.

"Christ, they're all pushy, aren't they?" Muttered Buck over his shoulder to Renee before heading down the aisle. She and Rookie, followed by Dutch and Romeo, left the plane with their things, and walked down the terminal stairs under the glare of the evening sun.

Stepping down onto the tarmac and gazing around at the military base, Romeo said:

"Now they better have a car ready to take us to where we need to go."

"Who do you think we are, Top Brass?" Buck asked him, "If you don't see a car here, there isn't going to be one. They'd be here to meet us if we were getting any sort of transport. Now it isn't that far of a walk – and considering we've been sitting on our asses for the past several hours, it'll do us all good." He paused to get his bearings, then pointed, "That a way, four-o-clock, on the double!"

The large, mostly glass building was slightly familiar; Renee remembered leaving it two months ago in the company of Lord Hood and John to meet their own jet plane on the tarmac. Now here she was, back again, but essentially, she felt like she was returning alone.

The time of day seemed to give everything a golden hue, and Renee found it difficult to lift herself from the sleepy haze she felt herself in. It was almost like a dream, and the only thing that was there to remind her that it wasn't, was the heavy knapsack slung over her shoulder.

The group was greeted upon entry to the building by a female Lieutenant, whom they all saluted. She was rather tall, and had blond hair, blue eyes and a stern expression. Renee couldn't shake off how she hauntingly reminded her of Elsie.

"Lord Hood informed me that you'd be arriving, and just about on time too, in fact you're a little early," the Lieutenant said, "More troopers on leave, am I right?"

"Yes ma'am," Buck answered, "Whether I'm not sure if it's regrettable or something to look forward to."

The Lieutenant chuckled slightly.

"Join the club," she said, "You're not the only one who's wondering exactly what the hell the UNSC's pulling off by all this. Military budget cuts is what I've been most commonly hearing. Personally I think it is too soon to be letting our guard down after a war that lasted for thirty years, but, we higher ranking officers are as good as grunts in this type of situation – we can only go with the flow. You can take the hallway to your right, and entry into the main military facility will be on your second left – you don't need to worry about any photo identifications, scans in the doorway will read your neural interface chips."

"Thank you, ma'am."

"Sergeant."

As Buck led the ODSTs and Renee down the hallway, Mickey spoke up:

"You see, we aren't the only ones who are wondering what's up with the military budget cuts! It's bullshit, everyone thinks so!"

"I've heard no one call it bullshit, Mick," Buck replied calmly.

"The LT did, it was an underlying tone up for interpretation, but…"

"Just be thankful they're paying us!" Dutch pointed out, "When they cut off our pay and basically lay us off is when you can really start bitchin'."

"Good point," Renee spoke up for the first time in a while.

"You have a lot of money though, wouldn't ya, Lil Sarge? Basically twenty years of disability compensation…"

"It wasn't much; believe me," she shook her head, "During a time of war? I was one in millions discharged due to wounds or disability. They couldn't be giving us a ton of money – enough to get by, and assuming that our families would take care of us. Plus, I only started receiving pay when I woke from my coma; they weren't going to pay a marine who might not wake up again."

"John mentioned something to us once, I think," Dutch said.

"Yeah, when he was drunk," Romeo added.

"About him being rich, have millions from being in the services for almost forty years and not using a cent of it," Dutch finished.

"He's lucky," Renee remarked.

"He's still not using it," Mickey pointed it out, "He might not've come back with you, but you could write him and ask for some money to help you out. On top of your pay, hell, you could throw a few parties every month!"

Renee remembered John telling her once that he had no use for the millions in his bank account – and that she could use it whenever she wanted. But that was two months ago, that was when he was here with her, that's when she had plans for a future together.

"No," she answered, shaking her head, "I wouldn't do that." She was aware of the melancholy sound in her voice and hated it. So instead, she pushed the thoughts of John aside and said, "So, what is the tentative date for this little party of ours?"

"Well give us a couple days to settle in home, eh, what about the 10th, guys?" Dutch asked, "Sound good?"

Renee nodded, and so did everyone else.

"Alright then," she said, "the 10th it is, come when you want, leave when you want. Do you know the address!"

"Already got it from your military file," grinned Buck.

"Creepy, Gunny!" Mickey shouted at him, jokingly. They all shared a laugh. One by one, they all passed through the scanner for their neural interfaces and entered the main military base. Looking at the signs, Romeo asked:

"Who's got drives waitin' for 'em?"

"Gretchen's sent a taxi for me," Dutch said.

"My car's here," Buck answered.

"Carpool with Gunny!" Mickey spoke up, "Drive me and Romeo home, would ya?"

"You ask me first to buy you coffee, _then _you demand I be your personal chauffer and drive you home? It's a little much," Buck said, "If you have gas money, guys. What about you, Lil Sarge, and Rookie? You have a way home?"

"My friend Amy," Renee answered.

"That's right, I almost forgot, Rookie's couch surfin' at Lil Sarge's for a bit," Mickey said, looking from Renee to Rookie, then back to Renee again, giving her a wink, "He's nothin' but a slob and a pain in the ass, don't take him in."

Rookie made a face at Mickey, and he started laughing.

"Nah, nah, just kiddin'," Mickey shrugged, "He'll be the best house guest, Lil Sarge, aside from seein' him on your couch and maybe at your dinner table, you won't even know he's there. He sleeps more than Brute here does!"

Rookie smirked at this.

"It's true," he agreed lowly.

"Still have to get used to hearing you speak," Buck said with amusement.

* * *

There was a small café located within the main military base, and there, Buck bought Renee and his ODSTs each a cup of coffee. Dutch went as far to ask for a cappuccino, and he couldn't have been denied more quickly. He meant it more as a joke, but it was easily read on Dutch's face that deep down, even as he stirred in a little cream and sugar into his regular coffee, that he truly had been hoping Buck would buy him a cappuccino.

"You think money grows on trees," Buck shook his head, taking a sip of his coffee which he left black, "And don't pout Dutch, if you wanted it bad enough you would've bought your own damn cappuccino!"

"Not when you said you were buying!" Dutch played along, "Jeez Gunny, I don't ask for much of ya – it's the other two that announced that you'd be the one driving them home!" He shot a glance to Mickey and Romeo. Mickey, who didn't want to set down Brute's cage, was making Romeo pour the cream and sugar into his coffee for him.

"Whoa, that's enough! Stop! I still want to taste coffee!" Mickey interjected as Romeo went to pour in a third bag of sugar. Romeo fumbled it, and ended up dropping the pack on the floor.

"Well do it yourself next time, you ass!" Romeo snapped back, "Your cat won't die if you set him down for two seconds to make your coffee the way you like it!

Renee, who was putting her own cream and sugar into her coffee beside them, let out a chuckle at their antics. The ODSTs succeeded to make even something as simple as getting coffee a big comedic ordeal. Stirring her coffee, she took a sip to make sure it was to her taste, and then put the lid back on. She glanced to the time, and knew Amy would probably be waiting outside by now.

Rookie, who too, took his coffee black, caught her glance. He was perched on the edge of the chair of one of the little café tables, and looked half asleep despite now having coffee.

"We should probably be going soon," Renee said to him, "My friend who's picking us up is probably waiting."

Rookie nodded understandingly, and he got to his feet, throwing his knapsack over his shoulder as she did the same, albeit awkwardly with a coffee in one hand.

"Hey, you guys heading out?" Buck was quick to catch on.

"Yeah, I figure Amy is here to get us by now," Renee answered, "I don't want to keep her waiting. Since you know where I live, you probably know my phone number, so give me a call later and let me know what's going on, okay? Confirm the party plans so I can go pick some stuff up."

"Sure thing, Lil Sarge," he answered, "I'll give the guys your number too, so we can all keep in touch. From there we can find less primitive ways of communication, I'm sure we all have computers or data pads." Buck paused, looking from Renee to Rookie, "You behave yourself, Rookie. You follow Lil Sarge's rules – and try to help her out the best you can, don't be a total couch potato, alright?'

"Ah, Buck, leave him alone," Renee laughed, "He can do what he wants, I don't care."

"I don't know whether to tell you to keep care of him, or for him to keep care of you," Buck made a face, "But whatever – we'll have that party." He turned to face the others. Mickey and Romeo were still bickering, and Dutch looked to be still slightly upset about his plain coffee, "Hey Troopers! Lil Sarge and Rookie are headin' out!"

"Oh," Mickey jumped to his feet, ignoring his argument with Romeo, "See you guys soon!" He gave a handshake to both Renee and Rookie. Romeo and Dutch did the same.

"We're still having the party?" inquired Romeo.

"Yes," Renee nodded, "Just keep in touch and confirm – get my contact info from Gunny."

"Alright guys, stay safe," Dutch told her and Rookie, "We'll see ya soon enough."

Second and even third goodbyes were given, until finally Renee and Rookie left the ODSTs and began heading for the exit. Silence fell between them, but not for long. Renee was inspired to speak when she remembered who exactly Rookie would be meeting in a few minutes.

"Now this friend of mine, Amy Smythe, well Brown she goes by now – she's married, I'll have to tell you a bit about her," Renee glanced to Rookie, "I don't know if one can exactly prepare for an initial meeting. She's quite a character."

"If she's anything like those guys back there, I think I'll be okay," Rookie answered lowly with a grin.

"Well, she is, I suppose, in a way. I should start off by saying she is my childhood friend – I've known her almost my entire life. We joined the UNSC together in '33, and fought alongside each other until I was discharged in '35. At that time, Amy left too. She figured she had enough, I guess. Anyway, now she's married, has a son named Troy, and is three months pregnant. First off, if she is moody, blame it on that. Secondly, to be bluntly put, Amy is possibly the most obnoxious and forward person you could ever meet."

Rookie seemed unaffected by her warning, so Renee added:

"I'm just informing you just so you know. Don't be surprised by anything she says – although that would be hard to do for someone who just met her, I'd imagine."

Rookie nodded, but didn't say anything. She wondered what he was thinking. Somehow, she was reminded of John when she had first met him in '35, or more recently, the reclusive John that found his way back to her this July past. Renee considered mentioning to Rookie that Amy would expect him to talk, but decided not to. Given time, Rookie may just warm up, as John had.

_He isn't John_, a voice in her head said pertinently_, between them there are some hauntingly similar attributes maybe, but he is not John. _

The thought that Renee hadn't wanted to let in her head then dug its way in and exploded in her mind: there were now five thousand miles between her and John. She wasn't sure when she'd see him again. The memory of how they had parted stuck out to be the most painful of them all. John hadn't even been willing to give her an indefinite answer to when she may see him again – and in a flurry of contempt towards conceiving the idea that she may not, Renee had, in the utmost formal military sense – complete with a perfect salute - bid him goodbye.

She regretted it now, she realized, for her heart now wished that they had parted on more gracious terms, but remembering the situation it wouldn't have been possible no matter how much she tried for it. John, silently grieving, had been cold and brisk.

A conversation on the matter with Amy later this evening would be much needed, Renee decided. That finalized, she forced the thoughts from her head altogether, and, just to make sure, rinsed it down with a mouthful of coffee. It was slightly bitterer than her usual preference, but it brought her to her senses, and more importantly, reality around her that she must now face – for the time being, without John.

"You're almost as quiet as me," Rookie suddenly remarked.

"My thoughts ran away on me," Renee forced herself to chuckle at the matter. Looking ahead, she saw the main entrance doors – and standing just outside them, she could see a tall woman with fiery red hair, "Oh, look! There's Amy now!" She waved, and Amy looked up at the right moment to catch it. Not bothering to return the wave, a smile leapt onto Amy's face, and she hurried inside, rushing towards Renee with open arms.

"There you are!" Amy called as she approached, "Don't you look sharp!"

Renee quickly handed her coffee to Rookie – she got visions of spilled coffee going all over her white uniform – and accepted the hug from Amy that was quite vicious for a pregnant woman. They stepped back, and did an up-down assessment of each other. Amy seemed impressed by Renee in uniform. She herself was dressed in a loose-fitting purple sundress, complete with Romanesque sandals and sunglasses perched amongst her nest of red hair. Not noticeably showing yet, Amy looked well; color was abundant in her freckled cheeks and of course, her mouth was formed into a gigantic smile.

"And your hair! It is super short, but cute!" Amy remarked again, taking notice despite most of Renee's hair was beneath her hat, "Well I figured they wouldn't let you in as you were, Rapunzel." She let out a laugh, "I missed you."

"I missed you too," Renee replied, "You look nice yourself, purple works for you."

"Ah, well, I just threw it on," Amy shrugged, glancing down at herself, "It's fall and it's still a fucking heat wave here. The car is parked outside of the base – they have some rule against civilian vehicles beyond a certain point. They were going to escort me here on foot, but I said, 'I'm pregnant and there is no way in hell I'll be walking any sort of distance in this heat!' So God love them, the men at the gate called a troop transport for me, and I got to ride shotgun in an ol' Warthog! Never thought I'd do _that_ again! I had a nice chat too on the way here, told the driver I was an ex-marine. He had to be no older than nineteen, and he seemed pretty impressed that at his age I was manning a Hog machine gun turret, blasting the fuck out of aliens!" Amy laughed at the memory. Suddenly, as if he popped out of nowhere, Amy took notice to Rookie, who had been standing silently beside them awkwardly holding two cups of coffee. Giving him a look up and down, she said, "You an escort or are you the one she's bringing home?"

Renee took her coffee back from Rookie, and answered for him:

"This is the Rookie I was telling you about, yes."

"Nice to meet you," Amy was surprisingly calm. She extended her hand out and Rookie shook it, giving her a polite nod and smile. Noticing his silence but paying at first no attention to it, "So you're one of those crazy Helljumpers?"

Rookie nodded again.

"I've heard stories about your kind, but you seem respectable enough," Amy shrugged, "You'll do good to keep Renee company when I can't."

"I'm…" Rookie started, pausing to clear his throat, "I'm only staying with Sergeant Kilburn until I secure another place to stay."

"Yes, well I made sure of that!" Amy let out a laugh, "Wasn't sure what Nat meant when she said she was bringing someone home with her. Well good to have you with us, for however long you stay."

"Thank you," he replied with a nod.

"Did you bring Wayne and Troy?" Renee asked Amy.

"No, I forgot Troy had a big soccer game tonight; he's been talking about it for weeks, so I don't know how I did, but anyway someone needed to take him, and you know how Wayne feels about anything military. He figured it'd be best if I came and got you," Amy smiled, "I wouldn't trust Wayne to find you anyway! He'd be too intimidated by the high security to even try and enter this place."

"Security…" Renee trailed off, as the three of them walked outside, "Something the UNSC is beginning to forget, I do believe. All these budget cuts – it seems too hasty if you ask me."

"Oh yes, I heard about that!" Amy exclaimed, "It's been in the news for the past few weeks! Up to 2 _billion_ dollars in government funding to the military has been cut and distributed elsewhere, mostly to rehabilitation and the rebuilding of the cities and repairing other damage caused by the Covenant." She paused, sitting down on the main steps, "Just wait here, the driver told me he'd be back around to take me to my car," she waited until Renee and Rookie were seated before continuing, "But yes, I heard that in some branches, all production of weapons, armor, vehicles – stopped completely. What's made already is what's left to use. All because some high-standing, shiny-shoed, peace-loving cocksucker with an officer's degree from the military academy and not an ounce of combat experience thinks that now that the war is over, there'll be no more problems! Fucking bull, if you ask me! I'm not even a marine anymore and haven't been for almost twenty years, but _Christ_, if I could punch the bastard who came up with this idea, I'd hit him so hard he'd wind up in yesterday!"

Renee couldn't contain the laughter that came from her throat. She agreed with Amy completely, and also came to realize how much she had missed her friend and her creative rants. Catching Rookie's glance, she could read on his expression that he now understood what she had meant when she'd told him Amy was obnoxious.

"What?" Amy asked, "You _do _agree, don't you?"

"Yes," Renee replied, laughter still in her voice, "I've just realized how much I've missed you."

"And I've missed you!" her friend echoed, "I haven't ranted like that since, I don't know when! You are always so good to listen too!"

At that moment, the troop transport pulled up. Amy jumped to her feet first, calling shotgun and jumping in. Renee and Rookie climbed in the back, taking the seats closest to the front so Amy would be able to still speak to them, it would be a short drive, but Renee guessed that her friend wasn't done talking.

"Private," Amy addressed the driver, the young man she'd mentioned before, "I'd like you to meet my best friend, Sergeant Kilburn," she paused to allow the Private to give Renee a hello, then he looked to Amy with interest, "I fought with her in '35, she's practically a veteran!"

"Not exactly," Renee said, but Amy continued to brag to the driver about what battles they fought in as they drove towards the exit of the base. Renee gave Rookie a shrug, and he returned it with a small smile.

"I guess this is new information for you, too," she said to him, half-listening to Amy as she was informing the Private about the Battle of Capricornia. Rookie nodded. She heard her mention how they met Master Chief, but Amy called him exactly that, not by John. A discussion about John would most likely arise when they were home.

When they reached the gate, Amy, Renee and Rookie were escorted outside, to where Amy's car was parked. On the way through, the guards at the gate, lower ranks than Renee, saluted her, which she returned. She had almost forgotten ranks and formality, lost in her thoughts instead.

Amy opened the trunk so that Renee and Rookie could throw their knapsacks in, then they got in the car, Rookie almost timidly. As Amy started up the car and began the drive out of the base grounds, she glanced to her right at Renee a couple of times.

"Gotta get used to you being here again," she told her, and glanced in the rearview mirror to Rookie, "And I gotta get used to you being here at all." After this though, she let out a chuckle, and to this Rookie smiled slightly.

* * *

It seemed like a short drive home. Amy talked the entire way, making up for both Renee and Rookie, who were both somewhat quiet. Renee found it almost odd when they pulled into the driveway and she saw her house for the first time in two months. It was just as how she left it; except for she wasn't coming home with John.

"Well, here we are," Amy turned off the ignition, and looked to Renee, then Rookie, "I'll let you get settled in," she met Renee's eyes, "Call me later okay? I'll come over later this evening and pick you up and you can come over for coffee. We have quite a lot to talk about."

"Okay," Renee answered, glad that her friend had mentioned it, "I can't wait. Thanks for picking us up."

"Not a problem," Amy replied, "Hang on a sec, I'll pop the trunk for you," she did, and glanced back to Rookie, "And I'll be seeing you around, I'm sure. Nice meeting you again."

"Nice meeting you too," Rookie said quietly, already with the door open and half out of the car.

Renee exchanged a long look with her friend, as Rookie got out and went around to the trunk to get out his things.

"You have a lot to tell me," Amy said, sounding serious, "That phone call didn't suffice. I'm still very much in the dark here – should I be worried about you?"

"No. I'll be fine, Amy. Trust me."

"I do, with my life. I'm itching to know the whole story," Amy glanced in the rearview mirror, watching as Rookie took out not only his knapsack, but Renee's, "Why the man you left with is nowhere to be found."

"I'll tell you everything," Renee told her, and momentarily gave Amy's hand a squeeze, "I promise."

Amy gave her a smile, which she returned.

"Alright, just watch your phone, I'll be calling."

"Alright," Renee nodded, and got out of the car, "Thanks, Amy."

She gave her a wave, and Amy returned it, starting up the car and backing down the driveway. Renee watched her drive off, and was reminded of what needed to be done when Rookie cleared his throat. She glanced to him and saw he was holding her knapsack out to her.

"Oh, thank you," she smiled, "I'm just standing here like an idiot – come on in."

She walked up to the front door and, using a fingerprint scan, unlocked the door and opened it. Stepping inside, her house had a familiar smell that she had almost forgotten. Kicking off her shoes in the doorway and beckoning Rookie to do the same, she announced, her voice slightly echoing in the silent house, "Well, here we are."

She walked down the hallway, pointed to her left,

"That's the living room in there," she told Rookie, and glanced to her right, "That's the kitchen, and in through it is the dining room – which I don't use much. The bathroom is right down there past the stairs. It just has a toilet and sink, the one with the bathtub and shower is upstairs… which I'll show you," she glanced back at Rookie, and he was looking around appreciatively at the surroundings. Meeting her eyes, he nodded, and she went upstairs. Pausing at the top, she continued, pointing ahead, "The room right there is my bedroom; next to that is the bathroom, and down here," she walked down the hallway, making sure Rookie was following. She opened the door, "Spare bedroom, aka your room for as long as you need."

Rookie took a couple of steps into the room, glancing around. It was a fair-sized room with one window, a queen-sized bed, bedside table, dresser with a mirror, and a closet. After taking a good look, Rookie looked back to her:

"Are you sure?" he asked quietly.

"Well I'm not going to make you sleep on the couch," she told him with a grin, "Yes. Make yourself at home."

"Thank you."

"Don't mention it," Renee said, "I bought this house thinking I'd never use this room, I'm glad to see it's finally serving a purpose." She watched as Rookie set his knapsack down on the bed, and continued, "And please don't hesitate about using anything. Watch the TV, if you're hungry feel free to make something or grab something out of the cupboard, use the phone if you need to, my laptop is in the living room if you'd like to use that, shower whenever you want - do your own thing. Don't feel like you have to stay in your room. I don't run on much of a schedule anyway."

Rookie nodded, looking grateful.

"So," She said, "I'll leave you to unpack, I've got my own unpacking to do. If you need me, I'll be in my room."

With that, she left Rookie alone and went back to her room.

When she walked in, she was taken aback. It was just how she and John had left it. The bed was unmade, the closet doors were open and some articles of clothing lay on the floor. She walked forward, setting her knapsack on the bed, taking a deep breath, feeling suddenly alone and lost – and losing her urge to unpack. She'd do it later.

Instead, she left her room and went downstairs to her laptop in the living room. Glancing briefly at the photo of her, Amy, John and Troy on the mantel before sitting down on the couch with her laptop, she opened it on her lap and logged on. She didn't care she was still in her dress uniform, but took off her hat and set it on the coffee table.

Quickly she located the UNSC website and logged on using her service number and password. On the main page, news articles about the budget cuts were everywhere. Ignoring them best she could, she went to the database and clicked on personnel search. It allowed to search by service number, rank, and name. She filled in Master Chief Petty Officer and put in 117 as the service number – and in a second, John's file popped up. The majority of it was classified and unavailable to her, but she could see John's picture, name, service number, rank, service time and date of birth (year only). His current status read active. Skimming down the page, she soon found what she was looking for: contact information – but it was as she thought it would be – classified.

Frustrated, she went back to personnel search, and tried looking for Dr. Halsey. She came up, and luckily, her contact information was readily available. Renee quickly copied and pasted her email and composed a message to her. It said:

_Dear Dr. Halsey,_

_I have recently returned home to Los Angeles, and I'm contacting you in concern about John. He doesn't show much emotion, but I could see today and yesterday he was very much upset - as I am sure you and the other Spartans all are – about Elsie. I too, was shaken by her sudden death. She was a great soldier and a wonderful person._

_What I'm about to say seems foolish as I'm sure I don't need to ask this of you for you are already doing it, but please keep an eye on John for me. Given his current diagnosis of PTSD, the cancellation of the Spartan program, and most recently, Elsie's death, gives me reason to worry for him and his well-being. _

_Also, I have checked John's profile, looking for any sort of contact information – but it is all classified. Could you help me out by providing me with a way of contacting him? If not, could you please pass on the message that, despite the way we parted this afternoon, I care about him very much and always will, and I hope he will be able to overcome his inner struggles as soon as possible._

_Thank you,_

_Sgt. Renee Kilburn_

* * *

After sending the email, Renee puttered around the house, feeling much like a stranger in her own home. She went to her room, unpacked some things, went back downstairs again and tidied the house, then back up to unpacking more things. She felt in an utter state of disarray, and her current fluttering about the house went unnoticed by Rookie, who had the door closed, and judging by the lack of sound coming from the room, she guessed he had gone to sleep.

Mickey had been right; it was if she wasn't sharing the house with anyone at all. She hoped, for the sake of her loneliness when she was without Amy, Rookie would come around and perhaps spend some time with her – even if the both of them were to just sit down to eat dinner or even be in the same room. He didn't even have to talk much. Company was company.

Renee was downstairs puttering around in the kitchen, contemplating whether to warm up some soup or perhaps order a pizza, when the phone rang. She hadn't been expecting it and startled, but quickly found where it was – it was cordless so its location tended to vary – and answered, expecting Amy.

"Hello?"

"Lil Sarge?" It was Buck.

"Oh, hello Eddie! I wasn't expecting you to call so soon!"

"Sorry, are you busy?"

"Nah, actually, I find myself pacing my own house like a madwoman."

"That's not always good," Buck chuckled, "Anyway, I was just calling to make sure not only that I had the right number, but to see how you and Rookie are settling in."

"Rookie's doing better than I, he's got his own bedroom and I think he's passed out."

"Well that's not out of character," Buck sounded amused, "He sleeps a lot, don't be surprised if you don't see him around much – he'll need time to get used to sharing a house with someone. I think he'll warm up soon enough, he has already considering he's talking!"

"Yeah," Renee answered, "So how about you? You home?"

"I'm home, yep. Haven't been here in a while… I need to the dust the place."

Renee laughed.

"Do you know if a certain Captain may be joining you?"

"Uh… not sure. My fingers are crossed, but, who knows. She's still in LA."

"I hope things go well for you," Renee told him earnestly.

"Ah well, they'll go the way they go, but thanks," Buck replied, "But anyways, I can't talk long. Me and the guys are going out for a couple beers. If you and Rookie would like to come, you're more than welcome."

"Rookie's asleep, and I promised my best friend I'd talk to her tonight – but there's our party coming up."

"Right, almost forgot! That'll be something to look forward to! Anyways, I'll talk to you later Lil Sarge."

"Alright Gunny, talk to you later."

When Renee hung up, she let out a sigh. Hopefully the party would raise her spirits a little – and if she were to get one, a response from Dr. Halsey would too. Just in case, she checked her email, but there was nothing yet. She was about to head back upstairs to work on unpacking the last of her things when a knock sounded on her door. Right away she knew who it would be.

She opened it and there stood Amy with a smile on her face. She beckoned Renee out.

"Shoes on, let's go," she said almost instantly.

"I'm still in my dress uniform," Renee realized, looking down at herself.

"Who cares! You're getting in my car and coming to my house. Besides, it makes you look important. Come on!" Amy watched as Renee let out a shrug and put on her dress shoes. She couldn't usher her friend out of her house and into the car quick enough.

* * *

At Amy's, the boys were still gone to the soccer game so the two friends had the house to themselves. They sat down at the kitchen table, and Amy brewed them both a cup of coffee, and when it was on the table before them, she sat down, took a deep breath, and looked at her friend dead in the eye:

"Start explaining!"

"I don't know where to start," Renee said quietly, shaking her head.

"Start off by telling me why John didn't come home with you," Amy sounded like an interrogator, albeit with a friendlier tone, "That's probably the thing I want to know most."

"Well, one of the things the military axed with the budget cuts, was any further development or funding of the Spartan program," Renee started, "This happened almost as soon as we got back to Earth after completing the mission – which may I add, was a success. We found the missing Spartans."

"They cut the Spartan program?" her friend echoed, looking dumbfounded, "I thought Spartans were the pride and joy of the military. I mean, it was thanks to them we even won the war."

"I know. You can imagine how John took the news."

"I'd imagine he'd be royally pissed!"

"I guess you could say that. He was in a state of disbelief. For a while, John and I hadn't gotten along well, and things between us started to dwindle – and I began to worry if he would come home with me, and I should've known that if he found his Spartans, he wouldn't leave them," Renee dropped her gaze into her cup of coffee, "Now that the Spartan program is cancelled, he feels it is his job to keep their morale up during these hard times – and from what I can gather, he has no intentions of coming home at all."

For a moment, Amy was silent, as if heavily contemplating the information she'd just been told. However, in a split second, she declared loudly her opinion:

"That is bullshit. Sure, I feel bad for John and the Spartans but the fact that the program is cancelled is _no _reason why he can't just come back here – if he wants so desperately to be with his Spartans then he can drag their asses here as well! We were just at a military base today, weren't we? What kind of idiot has John suddenly turned into?"

"He's also in a state of mourning, Amy."

"For who?"

"A Spartan III named Elsie. Shortly after hearing the news of the Spartan program, she shot herself. John was the first to find her body," Renee paused to see if Amy had a comment, but she remained silent, "I think that incident might've pushed John over the edge on which he has been teetering for so long. I spoke to him before I left, and it was like talking to a shell of a man." Renee could feel tears welling up in her eyes and bowed her head to try and hide them, "Not even a trace of the man I once knew. If you could've seen him, Amy, if you could've seen him." She shook her head, unable to control the cracking of her voice, "And I think I'm not far behind."

Amy reached across the table impulsively to grab her friend's hand.

"Don't," she said simply, "Don't let John's misery be the cause of your own. For your entire life you put all of your eggs into one basket, and it always crushed you when that basket broke. I hate to say it, but as much as you wish you could, you can't make John come home to you. Don't waste your life away waiting for him – live it while you still can."

"I don't even know what to do," Renee met Amy's eyes, "With my life, I mean," she glanced down at herself, "I'm a Sergeant in the Marines, but they have basically laid me off along with the ODSTs. I'm to sit home and receive pay from the UNSC for doing nothing."

"Hell, don't complain about that," Amy shot her a look, "Do you realize how many people would like to sit home and get paid for doing _nothing_?"

"But how long will it last? Not very in the direction the military is headed."

"Take advantage of it while it lasts, then. Take a vacation somewhere down south maybe. Spend a couple of weeks lying on a beach getting a tan and drinking tropical drinks. I'd be up for it! We could go together."

Renee shrugged. She was uncertain, as she was about everything nowadays.

"I'll look into it," Amy decided for them both, "Find a good deal online. We'll go, just the two of us – we have a lot of catching up to do anyway – and have fun. Get your mind off everything, eh?"

Renee met her friend's eyes, and gave her a weak smile. Perhaps a vacation was just what she needed.

* * *

**A/N: **Somehow in between attending classes, studying, homework and generally getting used to university life, I managed to finish another chapter! In between / after classes I found time to retreat to my room with a cup of Starbucks coffee and work on this. I'm happy to find out that (if things don't get much crazier) I'll be able to continue updating regularly, but expect some delays here and there. I'll warn you ahead of time when I'm approaching mid-term or term exams. As for the chapter itself, I hope you enjoyed it, as always. – AB


	35. One Step Forward, Two Steps Back

**Chapter 35: One Step Forward, Two Steps Back**

**Dr. Halsey to Renee – Received Oct 7****th****, 2553 - 14:53 PM**

_Dear Renee,_

_Good to hear you made it home safely. This sort of dismissal of UNSC personnel is quite strange, much like what happened to my Spartans. I do hope you continue to be paid for this *hopefully* temporary leave on which you and the others have been dismissed. I wish the same could be said for the Spartans. Unfortunately, their futures seem less bright, and ironically so, considering the pivotal part they played in winning the war._

_Forgive me if I appear to be prattling on, but to be honest, aside from the Spartans themselves and a word with Terrence Hood, you are the first I've really gotten the opportunity to speak to about this tender subject._

_At the time it seems little can be done for the current situation the Spartans or anyone feeling the effects of this budget cut are in – unless of course out of the blue another war starts. The UNSC would find themselves in trouble if such a thing happened; it would be much like Reach I fear – but the chances of that happening are almost entirely impossible. Am I hoping for another war to start? An awful thing to wish, but even some sort of Insurrectionist trouble could possibly give the men making the big decisions an important wake-up call that it is too soon to let down our guard, and in such a sudden and absolute way. Not to mention anything to get my Spartans back on their feet again and feeling like they have a purpose would be… how should I put this… comforting for me. I have been fearing for their lives since Elsie decided to take her own, which I may add was a terribly tragic event that not even I came close to suspecting. It is awful, and I predict that the effect it has taken on the Spartans (II's and III's alike) and myself, will last quite a long while._

_I appreciate your concern you have for John – as I am too, worried about his wellbeing. I managed to speak to him – the first time since Elsie's death (may she rest in peace). He has become regrettably, very reclusive and quite possibly is at his social worst in all these years I've known him. Communication, both verbally and otherwise, all of a sudden seems difficult for him – and almost like it requires too much effort. He said little to me, but I informed him you were wishing him well and expressing interest in maintaining contact with him. I am unable to give to you his contact information directly as he is once again officially a Spartan and those in the Spartan program are to remain as anonymous as possible (as you surely know) – but I have given to John your contact information, so if he wishes, he may contact you. From there, if he does, you both should be able to stay in contact respectively._

_Good luck,_

_Catherine Halsey_

* * *

**Renee to Dr. Halsey – Sent Oct 7****th****, 2553 – 15:07 PM**

_Dr. Halsey,_

_ Thank you so much for your help. I do hope John chooses to contact me, but considering the recent events I would not be surprised if he decides not to. _

_ Best wishes to you and your Spartans,_

_ Renee_

* * *

**John to Renee – Received Oct 8****th****, 2553 – 04:17 AM**

_ Sergeant Kilburn,_

_ Dr. Halsey sought me out to inform me you wished to keep in contact. As for your concern about me, I am fine. Interpret that as you wish. _

_ MCPON Spartan John-117_

* * *

**Dr. Halsey to Renee – Received Oct 8****th**** – 11:51 AM**

_Renee,_

_ You are quite welcome. I think John will contact you; do not worry._

_ Catherine Halsey_

* * *

**Renee to John – Sent Oct 8****th****, 2553 – 8:43 AM**

_Dear John,_

_ I'm relieved you decided to respond – your email was a nice accompaniment with my morning coffee. _

_ I first off would like to apologize for the way we parted the other day. It was in the heat of the moment, and, regrettably it was not how I was intending to say goodbye. It sounded quite formal and indefinite, whereas my original intentions were much closer to how we always have said goodbye._

_ You say you are fine – and before you stop reading this out of disinterest of reading an oncoming lecture, listen: I am only asking because I am concerned about you. Do not forget, even though these are troubling and rough times I still love you and care about you. That goes unchanged – although during the past couple of weeks it has been difficult to tell we even love each other at all._

_ The house is different without you – I miss you terribly already. I know it may be a long time, months even, but if an opportunity arises, please come home to me._

_ I understand you may need a long while to recover from the blow of Elsie's death and the way they cut the Spartan program – but remember this, I care about you and if you ever wish to talk, I'm here, as I've always been._

_ Love,_

_ Renee_

* * *

**John to Renee – Received Oct 8****th****, 2553 – 21:33 PM**

_Renee,_

_ Apology accepted for other day. Do not worry about me. Please do not put your life on hold for me. I know nothing for certain now, so, live – do not wait for me. That's an order._

_ MCPON Spartan John-117_

* * *

**Renee to John – Sent Oct 8****th****, 2553 – 23:15 PM**

_John,_

_ You will always have a place in my heart. To tell me not to worry about you is like telling me not to breathe – I can't. _

_Amy wants me and her to go on a trip down South – a vacation of sorts. It may do me good. She says hello, by the way._

_ Love,_

_ Renee_

* * *

**John to Renee – Received Oct 9****th****, 2553 – 01:28 AM**

_Renee,_

_ Yes, go on vacation. Hello to Amy, Wayne and Troy._

_ MCPON Spartan John-117_

* * *

**October 10****th****, 2553 **

Renee sat on the couch, her laptop on her lap. She was staring at her email – she had clicked to begin writing a new message, even went as far as typing in John's address, but now watched the cursor blink expectantly at her. She wanted to reply to the message she'd received from John the day before, but the way he had written it left her with not much to say to him. Besides what she had already told him in the last couple of emails, there was really, not much she could say without repeating herself. One thing drummed endlessly on her mind and it was the fact that not once in any of the messages received from John had he written '_I love you'_ to her or ended his message with '_Love, John_'. Instead the email always ended with his pre-set rank and name. Nothing else.

Over and over she'd told herself not to worry, and that expecting him to mention love at this time was too demanding. The man was not himself, an idiot could figure out that much. He no doubt had grown numb to anything around him, and this was obvious through his emails, that were written so plainly and without zeal or expression that it was if they were automatic responses sent out by a computer.

Renee finally decided against writing to him again. She closed out the browser and glanced up to see Rookie walk into the room. It was near three in the afternoon and he had just, by the looks of things, had crawled out of bed. Sitting down sleepily on the ottoman across from her, his version of good morning – or good afternoon, as it were, was a simple wave.

She returned it with a smile. Over the last few days, as she'd expected, she and Rookie had fallen into their own separate routines and the ODST seemed to feel accepted rather quickly. They came together for meals occasionally, usually dinner, and over the course of it had small conversations. Rookie slept in late and was awake well into the night, whereas Renee operated on a more normal schedule; she rose usually between nine and eleven in the morning and usually was asleep by midnight. Besides meals, she and Rookie crossed paths in the hallway or would both make use of the living room to watch television, read, or use the laptop. Rookie always acknowledged her but not always spoke, but he was a friendly and quiet guest in her home and his company proved to be unobtrusive and welcomed.

Aside from Rookie, she quite often spent time with Amy and her family – and just the other day, paid a visit to her parents, who she hadn't spoken to since she had left them a hasty message telling them of her plans of rejoining the UNSC.

That had gone over better than expected – her parents were just happy to see her home again and, almost hesitantly, congratulated her on becoming a Sergeant. They were relieved to know she was on temporary leave and her mother even more so when she learned Renee had come home without John. She'd mentioned Rookie and the fact he was staying with her for only a little while, and they'd accepted that, relieved he wasn't a Spartan. They also said they'd want to meet him, but Renee was still deciding whether or not that would be a good idea. Rookie was content living his quiet life, and she wasn't sure if he'd want to meet her parents – she guessed he probably didn't.

Today was the day for the scheduled party at her house, where all the ODSTs were to come and have a few drinks and it would be, hopefully, the most exciting event in a long time, and possibly a long while to come. Since Amy was pregnant, she couldn't drink, but she agreed to come over and help Renee mix cocktails in the kitchen.

"Oh what I'd give for a drink," Amy had said when Renee had initially informed her of the party, "They say mothers do a lot for their children – and going nine months without a margarita or a cold beer is asking a lot of me." Renee had laughed at her; she never failed to lighten a situation.

Renee set her laptop onto the coffee table, smiling at the memory, and glanced up to Rookie, who looked almost expectant, leaning forward, shoulders slouched with his arms resting on his knees and hands clasped together. It was obvious he hadn't cared to look in the mirror that morning, for his hair, despite being quite short, was standing on end.

"Big day today," Renee declared with a grin.

Rookie nodded, wiping his face tiredly with one hand and suppressing a yawn afterwards.

"I'm going to make a trip to the liquor store, I was just waiting until you woke so I could find out if there is anything I could get for you – or you could come with me even," she told him.

"I'll come, yes," Rookie said almost instantly, "I have money."

"I don't mind getting something for you," Renee offered, "As long as you don't have expensive taste and prefer a fifty-dollar bottle of scotch or something," she laughed lightly.

"No, that's fine," he grinned, "I can get it; a six pack of beer will do me." He paused thoughtfully, rubbing his hands together and staring at the coffee table before meeting her eyes, "What do you like?"

"I'm going to pick up some tequila for those cocktails I was telling you about, the ones Amy makes. They're awfully good. A quick trip to the grocery store is needed too; I have to decide on the flavor of cocktail mix. Amy suggested piña colada or margarita, but there's this blue raspberry flavor I've been itching to try."

"Hmm," Rookie looked thoughtful, then nodded, "Blue raspberry."

"That's what I thought," Renee seemed pleased with his agreement, "So. I figured we can go now, and we can pick up some fast-food while we're out, I'm assuming you're hungry."

Rookie nodded.

"Whenever you're ready to go," Renee declared, "I am."

"Just one thing," Rookie stood up, and trudged out into the hallway on his way to the kitchen, "I need an espresso."

* * *

The excursion to the liquor and grocery stores with Rookie reminded Renee much of the times when she had taken John. Like John, Rookie was fairly silent and almost awkward in a social setting, but not nearly as bad.

He browsed the liquor store separate from her, something John wouldn't have done – he always had stayed by her side. Renee remembered that Rookie was a PTSD sufferer like John, but his life hadn't been like John's. Before the military, Rookie had been a civilian, so he was somewhat at ease with civilization, just slightly awkward with people. He bought a six pack of beer like he had said he would, and waited for Renee by the door as she bought her bottle of tequila.

They then had gone to the grocery store together, where Rookie also went off on his own and browsed curiously. Renee quickly located her blue-raspberry mixer and found Rookie in the coffee section sniffing deeply at the various coffee beans that were available. He noticed her and gave her a sheepish smile.

"Here, smell this," he gestured to a particular flavor of coffee, French vanilla.

Renee did, and approved:

"Would that ever smell good brewing in the morning."

"I'm thinking of getting some," Rookie said contemplatively.

As Renee browsed several other aisles, picking up some snacks for the party, Rookie mulled around the idea of the coffee, and finally gave in, getting a couple pounds of coffee beans. He and Renee they went to the checkout together, and as Renee was having her things rung through and bagged, her cellphone went off in her pocket.

"Answer it for me, please, Rookie," she muttered as she took out her credit card. Rookie looked almost hesitant, but he swiped the phone from her pocket and answered with a quiet hello. For a moment, there was silence on the other line, and then a rather deep voice asked for Renee.

Rookie handed the phone to Renee, who was finishing the transaction and waiting for her receipt. She gave him a questioning look, but he shrugged, and she put the phone to her ear:

"Hello?"

"Who was that?" it took her a brief moment to realize who the voice was. John.

"John! What a surprise! It's good to hear you!" Renee said as she grabbed her bag of groceries and receipt and began her way towards the doors with Rookie staying in step. There was a long silence, until John repeated his initial question:

"Who was that?"

"Oh, just the Rookie. I'm having a party and all the ODSTs are here." She glanced to Rookie and she could read his face as he realized she was lying, "I was busy and I just got one of them to answer the phone..."

"Hm."

"How are you?"

"I was just calling to see how you were doing – and you're apparently in good hands. I'll talk to you later."

"John, wait, tell me how…"

Renee never got to finish her sentence because she heard him hang up in her ear. For a moment, she stared in disbelief at the phone, but regained her composure and put it back in her pocket, shaking her head. She met Rookie's eyes, knowing she wore her feelings all over her face. His expression changed, to one of concern and sympathy.

"Are you okay?" he asked quietly.

Renee nodded almost immediately, trying to avoid looking shaken up – in which she was very much so. She decided not to even try to elaborate to Rookie about the short phone conversation, for he may think that it was his fault she had been hung up on. She'd like to think it wasn't, but John's voice had harbored some sort of maliciousness as soon as she'd informed him of who had answered the phone and when she'd lied about who she was with. She could tell Rookie was confused about her lying, too. The party wouldn't be for another couple of hours.

"Was that the Spartan?" Rookie questioned almost timidly.

"Yeah," Renee answered, taking her car keys from her pocket to unlock the car in the lot as they approached it, "He was nice, wasn't he?" Her voice was overflowing with sarcasm – it even shook a little.

Rookie said nothing to this, his expression growing thoughtful. They didn't say anything to each other for the whole ride home.

* * *

When Renee and Rookie arrived back at Renee's house, Amy was sitting on the doorstep waiting for them. She smiled instantly when she saw their car pull into the driveway and her smile didn't fade as they both got out of the car.

"I know what you must be thinking," Amy announced, getting to her feet as Rookie and Renee went to get the bags out of the backseat, "Oh, the annoying pregnant bitch is here already!" She laughed at her own joke.

"No, of course not," Renee smiled slightly, gathering up enough composure to last her until she and Amy were alone and she could speak to her about the phone call, "I'm glad to see you." There had been an uneasiness in her stomach since she had received the call, an almost sort of nausea that made Renee more interested in going to her room and lying in bed rather than being host to a party for all of her military friends. As Amy took a lightweight shopping bag from Renee to help her get things into the house, she noticed her expression:

"Renee, you okay? You look like you're upset."

Renee just shook her head, not meeting her friend's eyes. She unlocked the front door of the house and went straight for the living room without even taking off her shoes. Amy waited in the foyer for Rookie to come in the house with his groceries.

"I know you don't say much," Amy said him instantly, her voice a whisper, "But I expect you to right now. What's up with her? She's acting strange."

"She got a phone call when we were out," Rookie answered, shrugging, "It was John. That's all I know."

He headed into the kitchen and Amy followed, and it was quite a surprise to see Renee standing over by the kitchen sink, the bottle of tequila already open and she had just finished downing shot one.

"Renee, honey, tequila shots without the salt and lime wedges! There's something the matter with you! What's wrong?" Amy hurried across the room towards her, tossing the groceries on the kitchen table and taking Renee into her arms. Renee, who was grimacing from the tequila, suddenly broke down into sobs the moment Amy touched her.

Rookie paused from unpacking his groceries at the sound of her crying, and glanced from Renee to Amy. Amy gave him an assuring look.

"I can… leave," he said respectfully.

"No, you unpack your groceries! The kitchen is no place for a sob-fest! Come on Nat, living room we go; it'll be okay!" Amy ushered Renee out of the room in a whirlwind. She sat her friend down on the couch and seated herself on the coffee table, pushing aside a stack of magazines. Quieting her voice, she said, "Stop crying and tell me what's up. Rookie said you got a phone call from John. What happened? Did he say something to you?"

"I wasn't expecting him to call," Renee took a deep breath and wiping her eyes, "When the phone rang I thought it would be you or one of the ODSTs; I was at the checkout so I told Rookie to answer," she paused to take a couple more hitching breaths, "John was harsh on the phone. I told him I was having a party with the ODSTs… he, he said I was in good hands… and hung up!" Renee closed her eyes and shook her head, "I'm so stupid. So stupid. He must think there's something going on with me and the Rookie, it must be, it must be! But there's nothing! Amy… I…"

"Listen, don't worry about him," Amy told her, "Even if there was something between you and the Rookie, John technically has no right to get mad. What did his emails say? No 'I love you's', he told you not to wait for him. He told you to have fun. And if he's going to call you and monitor what you're up to and disapprove when he finds out you're doing exactly what he told you to do, and get mad about it, he can fuck himself. Frankly, Renee, I don't want to see you get shit on by him – he's playing with your emotions – and quite cowardly from the other side of the country. Yeah, he's upset that his Spartan program is cancelled, but yeah that is no reason for him to treat you the way he is. He's being fucking ridiculous." Amy paused, "My doctor told me not to get all worked up, and here I go, but you know what? My advice to you – I hoped I'd never have to echo it again to you. Do you remember what I said to you about Troy Fisher when he being an ass to you for joining the UNSC? Forget him. For-get him. Maybe with time John will come around, but until then? Forget him, because he's treating you like a piece of shit and you don't need that. You're a wonderful friend, a wonderful woman and you don't need this bullshit! You are beautiful, you are confident, you are successful, and beautiful, confident, successful women don't allow themselves to be shit on by men." Amy paused, and allowed for a breather and a few seconds silence, "Now, I want you to do something for me. I want you to have fun tonight, okay? And having fun doesn't mean getting fucked up on tequila shots and wallowing in your own misery. I'm helping you host this thing, so, have a couple of my cocktails, we'll crank some music, dance, have some food, and make it a great night. Just like we used to, huh?"

Renee nodded, a small smile coming onto her face. She reached out and took Amy's hand.

"You're the best friend I've ever had," she declared.

"Damn right I am," Amy grinned.

* * *

It was not long after Amy and Renee started mixing the drinks that the first guests arrived. Buck was first, and Veronica surprisingly with him. They both looked great, Buck wearing a dress shirt and jeans, and Veronica wearing a blue cocktail dress and heels. Renee was happy to see them both and greeted them at the door with a hug.

"Hello Lil Sarge!" Buck smiled, "Don't you look nice!"

Renee was wearing a dress of purple and a simple necklace, but she shrugged.

"Thank you. You look sharp yourself!" She complemented him, before turning to Veronica, "I love your dress. I'm glad you were able to make it! Eddie said he wasn't sure if you were coming or not."

"Well he persuaded me," Veronica said with a grin; she had a total different air than she had during the mission. It was like she was a completely different woman, and this must be the Veronica Buck loved, Renee realized. She looked quite elegant; her usually straight blond hair was in curls and the makeup she was wearing made her eyes pop.

Renee introduced them both to Amy, who greeted them with a handshake and a pleasant smile.

"The best friend of Lil Sarge; well I'm honored to meet you!" Buck told her.

Amy, an excellent hostess, ushered them into the kitchen, explaining to them that they must try her cocktails. Renee, let out a little sigh of happiness and realized that already this seemed like it would be a positive night. She had already drunk one cocktail before anyone arrived and was feeling a certain buzz of euphoria. She initially hadn't intended on dressing up but Amy insisted upon it. Together, they picked out something and, now, Renee couldn't deny that she felt somewhat sexy.

A movement caught her eye, and she turned, spotting Rookie, walking out of the living room into the foyer. He was sipping at a can of beer, and was dressed in a light green dress shirt and what Renee realized was the pants and shined shoes of his dress uniform.

She smiled.

"You look nice, Rookie, I didn't think you were going to dress up."

Rookie shrugged,

"Surprise," he said lowly, meeting her eyes. For a moment, they just shared a gaze, until Buck noticed Rookie and let out a shout. Rookie snapped out of the daze and a smile came to his face and he crossed the foyer into the kitchen to greet him.

Renee, before realizing what she had been doing, was distracted when the doorbell rang. She quickly rushed to the door, and upon opening it, she had a bottle of champagne shoved in her face. Behind the bottle, she could see it was Mickey. And with him, Dutch, his wife Gretchen, and Romeo.

"For you, Lil Sarge! A great hostess!" Mickey declared, holding the champagne out to her. She accepted it, smiling.

"Why thank you, Mick, you didn't need to do that! Come in everyone!" She welcomed them in, and all at once everyone merged out into the foyer, the ODSTs greeting each other, Amy introducing herself to them, and Dutch introduced Gretchen to Renee. A couple of the ODSTs commented Rookie on his clothes. They were dressed similarly, but seem surprised at his clothes.

"All trussed up, you are!" Dutch seemed proud of him.

"Ah, dress uniform does come in handy off duty!" Romeo said, "Now why didn't I think of that!"

Mickey, who spotted Buck and Veronica with cocktails, pointed at them.

"Now where can I get one of those delicious looking things!"

Amy, who heard him, grabbed him by the sleeve and dragged him towards the kitchen:

"This way, darlin'!" she beamed, "You'll never try a better cocktail I assure you…" On second thought, Amy turned around, aware of the buzz of conversation, and stopped and raised her fingers to her lips and let out a shrill whistle. This gained everyone's attentions, and she raised one hand and screamed like a college girl, "Cocktails are this way, ladies and gentlemen! Let's get this party STARTED!"

This garnered a loud cheer and applause from everyone – and judging by how quickly the ODSTs scrambled into the kitchen for drinks, Renee realized that Amy would have no problem making friends with them. In this situation, she was just their type of person. Renee let out a little chuckle to herself, and weaved her way through the crowd that now filled the kitchen to the counter, where she got out a glass from the cupboard and rummaged through a drawer to find the cork screw for the champagne. A bottle of champagne – what a nice thing for Mickey to do, she thought. Euphoria still overwhelming her and the mass of people in the small room increasing it, Renee couldn't wipe the smile off her face, even as she struggled with the cork screw.

Suddenly, through the noise, she heard a quiet voice behind her.

"Need help?" it was Rookie. She stepped aside, nodding, watching as he set aside the cork screw and got a knife from the drawer. In a few taps, he succeeded in opening it with a loud pop – the cork hitting the ceiling and ricocheted somewhere in the room.

"Sweet Jesus!" Amy remarked.

Renee laughed heartily, as Rookie poured a glass of champagne for her and handed it to her. Picking up his own beer and taking a drink, he gave her a small smile.

"Thank you," she beamed, and in a split second, she held out her glass to him, "Cheers."

"I… got a can of beer," Rookie seemed amused.

"Who cares! Cheers!" she laughed.

Rookie raised his can of beer to her own glass of champagne and then they drank. To what, Renee wasn't even sure. She was quite surprised at how this one cocktail was making her feel. Amy liked to mix her drinks strong. Oh well, she thought, she mind as well have fun. And judging by how this party had started, it wouldn't be very hard to do.

* * *

Within an hour, Amy had gotten everyone happily drunk. Since she couldn't have any drinks herself, once the drink making was over, she amused herself with being the DJ, cranking music and basically holding a dance in the living room. Loud, slamming techno beats that had remained popular for the last few decades were almost deafening. Amy had hooked up a decent set of speakers to Renee's laptop, and she sat on the couch browsing the music playlist, dancing where she sat.

Everyone seemed to be having a good time, even Renee, which was good to see. She was dancing amongst all the ODSTs, but clearly half in the bag – Amy knew her friend well and could tell just by the look on her face that she was drunk. She was dancing with everyone, the bottle of champagne clutched in her hand. Every once and a while, she'd take a swig, but so far, she seemed to be keeping it classy – as classy as a drunk could get. Amy was amused, Renee was somewhat reminding her of herself when she had been younger.

Rookie was an amusing one to see, he had stuck to beer until Amy had forced a couple of cocktails into him, and since then Amy was amused with the result. He'd move from being slumped on one of the chairs to getting up and trying his best to dance with everyone else. He was rather drunk, and it seemed to open him up a little.

Amy had glanced down from the dancing to the laptop, and in that split second, Renee had found her way over to her and flopped down on the couch beside her, letting out a loud sigh and a laugh that carried over the music.

"Why hello!" Amy greeted her.

"Hey," Renee said, her speech somewhat slurred, hugging the bottle of champagne close to herself, "I'm having a blast! I haven't danced like that since… high school. Jesus, that was _such _a long time ago! Man!"

"Oh, I know, eh? I'm glad you're having fun!"

"Are you? I feel so bad you can't drink!" Renee said, but she contradicted herself drunkenly, offering the champagne to Amy, "Want some of mine?"

"Nah honey I can't, but thank you!' Amy laughed, looking to her, "You really _are _fucked up!"

"But feeling a-_mazing_!" Renee's eyes had a glazed look to them, and she bobbed her head to the beat of the music, looking thoughtful for a moment, "You know what I think I'm going to have some real fun tonight."

"What do you mean by that, Nat?"

"I'm letting it all go! I'm forgetting…" she answered, closing her eyes for a moment, "I'm putting it all behind me, and focusing on here… and… now. Here and now… here and now," she repeated herself, getting to her feet and looking intent on getting back into the groove.

"That's good! You take care of yourself – don't drink too much more or you'll regret it!"

"Uh-huh," Renee nodded almost childishly, "I don't wanna ..." she put her finger down her throat and made a fake puking noise, "Nope, nope, don't wanna do that."

"Then you might want to give me that bottle, darlin', trust me," Amy held out her hand.

"Okay…" Renee at first looked hesitant, but handed the bottle of champagne over, "Only cause you're my best friend! And you give good advice!"

"Alright now," Amy laughed, waving her off and setting the bottle of champagne on the floor by her feet, "Dance your ass off! I'm not being a DJ for nothing, you know."

Renee weaved her way through the crowd, dancing crazily for a moment in the middle of everyone and getting some cheers, before finding her way to Rookie, who was sitting on the chair in the corner, looking dazed and intoxicated. She sat down on Rookie's knee, tilting her head to the side to look at him.

"Hey," she drunkenly reached out to play with his hair, "How are you?"

"Great," Rookie answered, meeting her eyes, "You know, I really appreciate you letting me stay here. It's… it's really nice. Really nice of you."

"Well I like you staying."

"Yeah, I like staying too," Rookie didn't break the gaze, and neither did she. They both were intoxicated, and to them, everything seemed normal, "You… you…"

"What?" Renee asked immediately, her voice drawling.

"That phone call earlier…"

She shook her head.

"Don't wanna think about it, I'm forgetting it. I'm over it."

Rookie was silent for a moment, but he nodded approvingly.

"Good." He was silent for a few seconds more, "You're beautiful."

Renee, even in her drunken state, seemed surprised by this. Her surprise lasted only for so long before her impaired mind clouded over. She smiled.

"It's loud. Do you want to go someplace quiet?"

Rookie nodded, and Renee got to her feet, staggering momentarily, but she gestured upstairs. Her heart was pounding in her ears as she studied his face through the dark. The only light in the room was one single lamp and the brightness of the laptop screen across the room. The way the light touched the Rookie's face made her overwhelmed with a sudden desire that she hadn't felt in a long time – and she wasn't in the right frame of mind to realize that it could regret it in the morning.

"Let's go," she told him plainly, gesturing again to the staircase. Drunkenly, Rookie was quick to follow. He was perplexed as he watched her, the way she looked in that dress – something foreign in his mind was making him question what she looked like without it. He put one foot in front of the other unsteadily but his mind told him one thing over and over and over. Renee smiled over her shoulder at him, grasping for the railing to steady herself with one hand and taking hold of his hand with her other. They ascended into the darkness and seclusion of upstairs, drunk and impaired, – and no one noticed them leave, not even Amy.

* * *

"Sweet Jesus Christ, that's my goddamn hand you're stepping on, Gunny!"

This shout awoke Amy from her sleep. She shot up, quickly getting her bearings. She was in Renee's living room, and had fallen asleep on the couch. The ODSTs had fallen asleep too on various places throughout the room, and the place was a mess. Edward Buck, the funny fellow from the night before that Amy had instantly taken to, had been trying to creep his way over the sleeping body of Mickey, but must have stepped on him.

"Oh, sorry, buddy…" Buck muttered, and continued on his way, giving Amy a slight nod before hurrying into the hallway. A couple of seconds later she heard the bathroom door slam. Ah, she realized, she was dealing with several hung over men – but she guessed they knew how to take care of themselves. From the kitchen, she could smell someone was making coffee, and with a quick peek she saw it was Romeo.

"What a night," remarked Veronica, who looked sleepy and was on the couch across from Amy. She glanced down to Mickey, who was shaking his hand, fully awake, "You'll live Michael."

"Tell your man to watch his step would ya?" Mickey asked her. He took a sniff of the air, "Coffee? Coffee! Who's making coffee?"

"Me," Romeo called from the kitchen.

"I'll have one!" Mickey shouted instantly, "Black!"

"Me too!" Buck could be heard from the bathroom – and from the kitchen Romeo could be heard muttering something about them getting out and making their own cups for themselves.

Amy let out a laugh.

"Hey, where's Dutch and his wife?' she asked, "Did they go home?"

"Yeah, they lit out early, Gretchen had work later today," Mickey answered, "But yeah, what a great night. You did an excellent job with the drinks, Amy; and the music too, may I add. I haven't danced since… hell… I don't know when."

"I'm glad you guys enjoyed yourselves," Amy said, glancing over as Buck entered the room, doing up his pants, half asleep still. He flopped down beside Veronica, who gave him a look of disapproval.

"I just took the longest piss…" Buck remarked.

"You're disheveled all to shit, Ed," she remarked quietly, but smirked.

"Just need a coffee, and then I'll be alright," he murmured, but studied her, "You still look as beautiful as the day I met you."

"Enough with the flattery, I'll puke," Veronica said with a roll of her eyes, getting to her feet and walking into the kitchen, "Get a cup out for me too, would you, Romeo?"

Buck sighed.

"Rejected," Mickey let out a scoff.

"Shut up, I got her to come with me to this party, that's a start," Buck yawned, looking around the room, "I know Dutch and Gretch left, but a couple others are MIA too… who? Sorry but I am not feeling myself…"

"Haven't seen Rookie since last night," Mickey answered, "He probably passed out somewhere, knowing him." He looked to Amy, "Where's Lil Sarge gone?"

"I don't know," Amy replied, "I just got up myself." She hoped that Renee hadn't gotten sick during the night and that she hadn't been there to help her. Yawning and getting to her feet, she continued, "I'll go see if she's up."

Amy entered the hallway and hurried up the stairs – it was quiet, save for the sound of the shower running from the bathroom. Glancing to the spare bedroom, she saw it was empty, so she figured Rookie was the one taking a shower.

The door to Renee's room was slightly ajar, and Amy peeked in – and for a moment, she had to do a double take to realize what she was seeing. Renee's bed was a mess, one of the pillows was lying on one of the bedside tables, and along with it, Renee's bra. One of her heels had been kicked off in the middle of the floor, the other nowhere to be seen. Rookie's shoes were at the foot of the bed, his belt tossed over the dresser chair. His clothes were lying in a rumpled pile on the floor not too far from Renee's dress. And Renee was lying on the bed, wrapped up in the blankets, passed out, without any clothes.

"Holy fucking sweet mother of fuck," Amy muttered under her breath, realizing instantly what happened last night. For a moment, she wasn't sure what to do. For a second, she thought of leaving, but would it be a good idea to let Renee wake up and realize what happened on her own? No.

Amy entered the room, closing the door quietly behind her. She began swiping up the clothes from the floor and tidying the room. She was in the process of putting Renee's shoes back in the closet – she'd found the other one under the bed – when she heard her friend's sleepy voice.

"Amy?"

Amy turned around, and saw Renee looking at her. A look of confusion was on her face, but as she looked around the room, then realized that she was naked save for the blanket, something seemed to come to light on her features. Poor girl, Amy realized; she remembered.

* * *

**A/N: **Uh oh. I think she'll be regretting this one. Hope you enjoyed as always. – AB.


	36. Luck of the Draw

**Chapter 36: Luck of the Draw**

**October 11****th****, 2553 – Los Angeles, California, USA **

Amy was at first at a loss of words for her friend, but realized, if anything had happened, it was done and there was no going back on it. She knew what this situation _looked _like, but whether it was what she assumed, she couldn't be a hundred percent sure unless Renee knew herself.

"Do you remember what happened?" she asked Renee, seeing that her face had lost most of its color.

"No, I…" Renee started, pulling the blankets up closer around herself.

"I do," a voice said, and Amy and Renee both looked around to see Rookie standing in the doorway, having just come from the shower. He had on a pair of shorts and a towel thrown over his shoulder. He met Amy's accusing eyes momentarily before boldly meeting Renee's.

"Nothing happened between us," Rookie's voice wasn't quiet but it was hoarse as usual. His expression was honest, "If you want to know it all – of course we were both drunk. You took me upstairs. You said some things; you took off your clothes. You were drunk, and so was I, but I could see what you couldn't – that it was wrong in every way. I talked some sense into you and put you to bed, you passed out almost immediately. I knew that phone call from earlier fuelled your urge to get drunk, I knew what John assumes is going on between us. Although you two are currently not on the best terms – I can tell that he cares for you. He wouldn't have called otherwise – and here, now, especially after this misunderstanding, I can tell I would have no business here. It just wouldn't feel right because I feel I am possibly persuading you to do something that not just you, but I would regret. That's why I'm packing my things and leaving." Rookie took a deep breath, "I'm going to speak to Mickey, and I can be out of your hair by this afternoon."

Renee sat up further on the bed, staring at him in disbelief, for a moment she made the move to stand, but remembered she hadn't any clothes on. Her eyes were brimming with tears.

"Don't feel you have to leave," she shook her head, "If nothing happened then you don't have to…"

"No, trust me," Rookie said, "It will be for the best. If it is one thing I noticed during the last couple of months is what you and the Spartan have together. It is unique – and I hate to think I came so close to ruining it last night."

"It was my fault!" Renee was crying now, "You said _I _took you upstairs, that _I _took off my clothes – I'm awful, Rookie, I'm awful. I'm sorry. John doesn't deserve me; no one deserves me."

"We were drinking, it was a stupid mistake," he said, "But what could've happened would've been much worse." He paused for a moment, seeming almost exhausted from speaking so much, "It was a good party last night – and a good past week staying with you. Don't lose touch because of this."

He smiled weakly, fiddling with the towel, before turning and walking out of the room without another word. Renee's face was carrying several different expressions. She dropped back onto the bed, covering her face. Amy, who hadn't moved from her spot, seemed to suddenly snap to, and walked over to Renee's closet, and started picking her clothes for her. She tossed the garments onto the bed, a simple t-shirt and jeans.

"Well, you didn't do what I thought," Amy said, trying to sound positive, "That's good."

"I'm an awful person," Renee said from her pillow, her voice sounding choked.

"You made a mistake," Amy told her, "And you're lucky Rookie had enough class to keep you from making a worse one."

"I don't even know what to do, Amy."

"Getting dressed would be a start. Then coming down and having a morning coffee with everyone would be a nice follow up. Nothing really happened, so it'd be good to just act that way."

"Who's still here?"

"Buck and his girlfriend, and Mickey and Romeo. Dutch and his wife went home early this morning." Amy told her, heading out of the room. She paused in the doorway, "Hey, Renee. Don't beat yourself up too much over this, okay? I'll be down in the kitchen."

Numbly, Renee got up and pulled on her clothes, trying to wrack her mind for any memory of the night before. Somehow, she managed to conjure up a faint memory of Rookie shushing her and muttering things for her to go to sleep, pulling the blankets over her and then leaving. Had he told the truth when he said they hadn't slept together? Either way, she felt a great amount of dread.

Fighting back tears, Renee took a deep breath, looking around the room. She got up and began to pick up Rookie's clothes off the floor, absent-mindedly folding them. Setting his shoes on top of the pile, she walked down the hallway to his room – which he wasn't in. Setting them on his bed and quickly leaving, Renee could hear voices from downstairs in the kitchen – they'd be expecting her soon.

There was one thing she had to do before she could continue with her day – something that she figured she should do now instead of postpone. Her legs carried her almost robotically into her room, and to the bedside table. She picked up the phone, and called the number for the UNSC base Florida. She reached a recording that gave her options and what numbers to press. She pressed 4: "For family and friends wishing to contact military personnel". On the second ring, a woman answered:

"Hello?"

"Yes, um, this is Sergeant Renee Kilburn, service number 91875-65021-RK," Renee said, her voice choking already, "And I would like to speak with Master Chief Petty Officer John-117 please."

"He normally doesn't receive calls, ma'am."

"I was speaking with him just the other day – and this is important." Renee said, trying to bite back tears that were brimming in her eyes. Her voice was already starting to give it away – it had gotten uncontrollably high-pitched.

"Alright, ma'am, I can put you through to the number given here – I cannot guarantee he will answer."

"Thank you."

Renee's heart was pounding in her ears, as she heard a click, and then was transferred to the number. It rang; once, twice, three, four, five times. Just as she was about to hang up, she heard John's voice – but realized it was a recording.

"_You have reached MCPON-117; I'm unable to take your call. Leave a message and number and I will try to get back to you_."

There was a beep – then silence. Renee felt sick to her stomach, and she had to clear her voice before speaking, but it did little to improve her voice. The one that came out sounded almost pathetic.

"Hi," she said, tears welling up in her eyes, "John, this is Renee. I'm calling to say that I'm sorry, that I'm sorry that I couldn't have been better for you. And um…" she trailed off, suppressing a sob, "I want you to continue on without me; don't come home to someone like me. You deserve better, you do. Forget me, please. I ask too much of you, and considering what I am, what I have become, what I've done…" she took a deep breath, and audibly let a sob into the phone. Her mind went blank, and she finally said, "I'm so sorry."

She hung up.

_I'll give myself five minutes _– she thought, wiping at the tears that now rolled from her eyes. She had a terrible feeling in her stomach. It would be for the best, she tried to tell herself. John had been struggling with the idea of a future – and now he could easily make one without her being in it. She hated herself for the fact that she had tried to throw herself on Rookie – and didn't even remember. What did he think of her now? Perhaps it was good he was leaving too, she knew it would be awkward – and he probably figured her to be nothing but a drunken slut now. She ruined whatever sort of impression Rookie had of her, and felt terrible. He had been a good friend, a good person to have around the house. She had lost him and lost John, and nineteen years ago had lost Troy. Perhaps, she figured, she wasn't destined to have anyone male in her life, friend or otherwise. She was still surprised that Amy was sticking around as long as she had. She had pushed her parents away with the incident with John, and she was sure that the other ODSTs would learn what had happened and lose all respect for her too.

She felt miserable, disgusting, and alone.

* * *

John walked out of the terminal at the military base in Los Angeles. He had come with the clothes on his back and his data pad and a few bucks in his pocket – nothing more. After the phone call with Renee, he had spent a long time pondering what would be best to do. At first he was burning with jealousy at the idea of her spending time with the ODSTs and the nerve of Rookie answering _her _phone, but in a couple of hours he had calmed down and organized a plane ride across the country – he would go for a week – or maybe a few days, and settle things with Renee once and for all – whether it was good or bad.

It was late morning here in LA, he had only been able to catch an overnight flight. Of course, he hadn't slept. He hadn't slept in days. He looked like shit and he knew it – still bogged down since the news of the Spartan program and Elsie's death and subsequent funeral. He didn't care – he was on a personal mission. He was headed straight to Renee's home and was going to sit down with her and decide what was best for them.

He glanced down at his data pad, and saw he had one missed call and a voice message. Finding the closest bench, John sat down and put the data pad to his ear to listen to the message. He was surprised when it was Renee's voice he heard. The moment she said "Hi" he could tell there was something wrong. He could only sit there in disbelief as he heard the message, Renee's voice weak and upset, telling him to forget her and that she was sorry. Sorry?

For a moment, John considered taking her advice and getting the next flight back to Florida, but determined, he got up off the bench and set off for his original destination, a strange feeling in his stomach, which was the most emotion he'd felt in days.

* * *

Renee had come downstairs, relatively composed and had received greetings from those still remaining and accepted a cup of coffee from Romeo. There were no seats free at the kitchen table, so Renee leaned against the counter, holding the warm mug of coffee and inhaling the scent, hoping that it would wake her up from this nightmare. Rookie was in the kitchen, but he brewed his own coffee and said little to anyone. She noticed that he didn't meet her eyes once.

Buck was seemingly oblivious to what was going on. He looked half in the bag still, although was sober and sort of hung-over. He sat at the table beside Veronica, sipping at his coffee and looking like he hadn't slept in a while. Amy was bustling around them all, cleaning up from last night – Renee noted that she would thank her later. She appreciated it.

She met Amy's eyes once and her friend gave her a small smile. For a moment, Renee was tempted to tell Amy later that she had called John, but decided this would be something she kept to herself. There was still a lump in her throat that she knew could only be cured later by a lengthy cry. Since Rookie was leaving, she realized she'd have the house all to herself and could cry as much as she wanted without worrying about anyone hearing.

"Hopefully this coffee helps you all recover," Amy said as she loaded various glasses into the dishwasher, "It was quite the night last night."

"I won't say it now," Buck mused, "But later, I'll suggest that we do it again sometime."

Amy grabbed the nearest empty beer can from the counter and waved it under his nose.

"Don't feel good?" she asked.

"Jesus Christ, want to make me puke?" Buck whirled away. Amy laughed almost cruelly, winking at Veronica, who too, had a slight expression of amusement on her face.

"You'd think you could hold your alcohol by now," Romeo said disapprovingly, "Tsk, tsk, Gunny!"

"It's obvious _you _don't have a headache."

"Nope, I don't. Never bugged me none, alcohol. No matter what," he said proudly, "Gets me drunk, sure, but hangovers? Wouldn't know what it's like aside from seeing what you guys look like the morning after. Ah, and don't cry Gunny, Veronica will look after ya."

"Yeah right!" Veronica let out a laugh, "I'm being dropped home and leaving Edward here to fend for himself."

"You're so compassionate, V," Buck mumbled.

"You don't become a Captain being compassionate."

Buck made a face, mimicking her silently, rolling his eyes.

"You two are adorable," Amy laughed.

"Aren't they?" Mickey agreed. He looked to Rookie, "You're awfully quiet! I mean you usually are, but lately you've been saying at least something. Rough night or what?"

Rookie shrugged, taking a drink of coffee.

"You could say so."

To this, Renee lowered her eyes from everyone. She felt like two cents.

Then, a knock sounded at the door, and everyone turned to look into the hallway with interest. Amy looked to Renee, gesturing to the door.

"It's your house," she let out a small smile.

"Dutch probably forgot something," Mickey predicted as Renee made her way around the table and out into the hallway. She saw a shadow through the glass of the front door, and saw it was male. Indeed, probably Dutch, or maybe Wayne, coming to look for Amy, fearing she'd been abducted. As far as she knew, Amy hadn't spoken to Wayne since yesterday afternoon.

Renee opened the door, and instantly was at loss for words when she saw John standing in the doorway. For a moment, she thought it wasn't real, but John was there. For a moment, he just looked at her, his dark eyes searching hers. His expression was fairly calm.

"Wasn't expecting me?" he guessed, noticing her face. Renee overall didn't look too well – her face was pale and bags of tiredness were under her eyes. She was dressed simply in an old pair of jeans and a t-shirt, and her hair wasn't brushed.

Renee glanced back into the house, then back to John.

"Didn't you get my message?" she asked, her voice coming out small. She could feel tears springing to her eyes.

"When I stepped off the plane," John answered, putting his hand on the doorframe. His body nearly filled the entire doorway, he had to duck his head slightly, "I considered heeding your advice, but I figured since I came this far I mind as well go the rest of the way."

"Why are you here?" Renee questioned simply, her voice choking.

"To figure things out – but to me it seems you've already done that. Answer me this, what exactly are you sorry for?"

"For not giving you what you deserve," she managed to squeak out, lowering her eyes.

"Renee! Who is it?" Amy yelled from the kitchen.

"Would you like to come in?" Renee asked, not meeting John's eyes, "We're all having coffee."

Not waiting for his answer, she turned and walked into the kitchen, and she heard John shut the door and follow behind her wordlessly. Renee felt all eyes on her at first as she entered the kitchen, then move to her when John came to stand in the doorway. His eyes surveyed the crowd there, his eyes lingering on Rookie, who gave him a mere glance before staring down into his coffee cup. Amy, who was standing, looked rather surprised.

"Well, thanks for finally making an appearance John," she said firmly, "It's good to see you."

"Likewise," he answered, smiling ever so faintly. As quickly as it came, it went.

"Master Chief, sir," Buck greeted him, "You came a little late! Party was last night!"

"We're all hung-over, excuse us, sir," Mickey said with a grin and a chuckle, "What brings you to LA? I thought you were staying in Florida."

Renee realized John wouldn't answer, so she quietly said:

"We need to talk, please excuse us," and turned and led John into the living room, and shut the door behind them. Amy's expression was concerned, and she looked momentarily to Rookie, whose jaw was set. Mickey raised his brows, sensing the awkwardness.

"Uh-oh," he said.

* * *

In the living room, Renee offered John to take a seat, but he refused, preferring to stand. At this point, tears were rolling down her cheeks, but besides that, she held control of herself. She met his eyes.

"I love you, you know that. I always will," she took a deep breath, "But you may not feel the same about me after this, that is if you even do now. And that's alright, I wouldn't expect you to. I feel somewhat disgusted with myself."

John said nothing, forcing her to continue.

"I got drunk last night," she said, "After you called. I felt awful, because I know what you assume is going on between me and the Rookie." She paused to watch something change in John's features, "He's living here, or, well he has been the past week because he had no place to stay and I offered out of kindness. He's moving out today – and I can't blame him after what I did last night."

"What did you do?" John's voice was pure ice.

"I acted like a whore, that's what I did. It was the drink, but I feel like a fucking idiot to blame it just on that. Regardless of whether I was drinking or not, I tried to seduce him – and he was smart, he set me straight. I feel like shit, and I don't expect anyone's sympathy – especially not yours."

"That is why you left that message," John put two and two together. His expression showed nothing.

Renee nodded, and wiped at her eyes, but lost her composure all at once and covered her face to supress a sob.

"I'm sorry," she choked out, her shoulders shaking, "You don't deserve this. I hate myself for even considering the idea of being with anyone else with you."

John looked at her, feeling several emotions running through him. A pang of hurt hit him dead center in his chest, a pang of realization.

"It isn't your fault," he said.

"Then whose fault is it?" Renee demanded, her voice almost a shriek.

"Mine." His eyes pierced hers, "You talk of what _I _deserve; I deserve nothing, Renee. How I have treated you in the past few months is nothing close to how you should be treated, how you deserve to be treated. Many times I realized, there are hundreds of men out there who could treat you a thousand times better than how I ever could. I'm a washed out veteran with PTSD. Amy, her family and even the ODSTs provide you with what I haven't been able to. I hate waking up every day and having the want to be there with you and treat you like you deserve, but knowing that I _can't_. I barely have the mental stability to take care of myself and it makes me sick. That is why I told you to live, to have fun and to not wait for me. You'd be old and waiting faithfully for me and you'd have wasted your entire life waiting for someone who is never going to get better. What I've seen, what I've done has impeded me and it will kill me if a battle doesn't. The memories I've made with you have been the best of my life, and I thank you for tolerating me as long as you have, You put aside the differences between me and saw me as normal, although I'm far from that. I wish I was normal, I wish that for more than anything in the world – I wish I could be here for you every day and support you and love you like you deserve. The fact that I can't is eating me away. I like to see you happy, and you're not happy now. Find what makes you happy – that's all I want."

"_You_ make me happy!"

"No I don't," John shook his head, "We're both living on a memory. I made you happy when I was a young man."

"But you do! You not being here is what has made me a mess," she confessed, "Sometimes I regret ever going on that mission with you, for it seemed to bring out the worst in us but, I realize if I had stayed home I would've gone crazy by now. It's gained me something, it has made me stronger; I now have a job, but I don't know for how long."

John looked at her for a long time, before letting out a sigh and pulling her into his arms. His hug, however was rigid, his arms locked around her like steel. He felt his stomach flip – he could not blame her for her recent actions, he hadn't treated her as good as she deserved, and now, he wished that he had.

"You may be back before you think," John murmured, seriousness springing into his voice, "I came here not only to get some questions answered, but to warn you."

"About what?" Renee demanded, pulling back and looked up into his eyes.

"I trust you can keep this a secret – you can tell the people that are here now," he said, "but no one else."

She nodded, wiping away the last remnants of her tears.

"What is it?" she pressed.

"For the past few days we've been in contact with the Sangheili. The Elites," he told her, "As you know, at the end of the war they became our allies."

"We wouldn't have won the war without them, they say," Renee nodded, "Yes."

"There is a growing tension between them and the Jiralhanae, or the Brutes," John said, "They are on the brink of a war – the Brutes and the Elites never got along, and there is still hatred held for each other since the collapse of the Covenant. The Elites themselves haven't been having it easy themselves, their home world is full of rebellion and corruption and thus has formed into a civil war – and if the Brutes decide to engage some sort of attack, they would be fighting a war on two fronts. As we are their allies, the Elites have asked us for our help – that if a war is to begin, that we come to their aid, fighting both the Elite and Brute rebels. And if we want to keep the Elites as allies for the future, we really have no choice but to help. Besides, we are practically in debt to them."

"Jesus," Renee breathed, "That means we'd be at war again."

"Yes. They've already commissioned the Spartans. I'm glad this has arisen before the UNSC could get too far in their budget cuts. I would expect to hear something in the next few days, for the ODSTs it may even be sooner. Anyone who is currently enlisted will be called to service – you have no choice. We are not at war yet, but it is practically inevitable."

Renee let out a deep breath and sat down on the closest chair, running her fingers through her hair. A long time passed before she spoke.

"Does it ever end?" she finally whispered.

"I'm beginning to wonder the same thing," John said, taking a couple steps over to her and dropping to his knees so he was about eye level. He took her hands in his, "And I can't help but feel that you are going to be involved because of me. You were safely out of reach when you had an honorable discharge… I should've never let you rejoin."

"You're going to need me," Renee smiled ever so slightly, "And it'll be best if I'm by your side."

"You haven't fought Brutes."

"I haven't fought rebel Elites, either," she mused with a shrug, rather nonchalantly.

"This isn't funny," John frowned, "Since your previous close brushes with death I trust you know how easily it is to get killed if you aren't careful."

"Of course I know. How could I forget?"

John sighed.

"This is the last thing I wanted for you, I hope you realize. A lifetime of war. For me, it is a sentence, I had no other choice. My whole life I have never been able to play my own cards, they've been hurled at me and I had no choice but to try my best to survive – but you…"

"It was your fate to become a Spartan, and I think it was my fate to become a marine. Fate is what brought us together; war brought us together, otherwise we would've never met. In my own way, John, I don't think any of us ever get much say in what we are dealt in life. I don't think anything could've prevented me being shot, I don't think anything could've prevented me from falling into a coma and sleeping eighteen years, and it's obvious now, that nothing can prevent us from what is ahead – the fact that in the near future we are both again being thrust into a warzone. If I must fight, I will fight, and if I must die for the good of humanity, I will die – most preferably by your side."

"You're not going to die," John muttered, getting to his feet – but she got up after him, grabbing his arm.

"You don't know that," She said, strength abundant in her voice, "And after all that I've seen, and all that I've gone through, do you think I actually fear death anymore? You don't! You practically laugh in death's face every day, and in a situation like this I think it's the best thing to do. You and I have a job to serve, you may be a Spartan and I a marine, but we both are tied to our service of our country, our world, our people, and our allies. For once I think it is the one thing we have in common that keeps us together."

"You're talking nonsense," he shook his head.

"I'm talking the truth, John – I hear it from you all the time. It scares you to hear it from me, doesn't it? That the same wryly cynical outtake on war, on death, on pain, the same stuff you spew every day of your life is being echoed back to you? I'm not a nineteen year old little girl anymore, John. I've seen people die too, I've seen planets destroyed too and I've felt all the pain, the misery and the fucking mental strain that goes along with it. This bullshit may be the one thing that holds us together because we have each other to lean on when times get tough. It's been tough, the last year has been nothing close to a joyride and it's obvious that it's going to get tougher before it gets better – but you know what? I'm ready for that. I'm ready for that because if fighting another war is going to bring me some sort of peace, whether I find it in life or in death, I say bring it on – and I know you agree with me. I am accomplishing nothing here sitting at home on my ass, besides getting drunk and making mistakes and wallowing in my own pathetic misery. We're meant to be together – and if we're together on the battlefield and that only, so be it. I know where I belong and it's with you. This kind of love we have is unique – I'm not about to let it die now."

She closed the space between them and kissed him. It was short, but she felt passion from John that she hadn't felt in a long time. When she pulled back, she saw a battle of expressions on his face, but seriousness won and he put his hand to her cheek.

"You would've made a good Spartan," he said simply, looking into her eyes for a while. She was silent, and savored his hand on her face, until finally he removed it and turned, moving towards the door.

"Must you go?" she asked instantly.

"You'll see me again soon," he answered, pausing in the doorway of the living room. The expression that crossed his face was hard for her to read, but it looked almost painful. He forced his mouth into a small smile, before walking into the hallway and letting himself out without looking back. Almost numbly, Renee walked into the hallway, staring at the door, watching his blurry shape through the glass as he walked down the steps and was gone, then she turned to look at everyone in the kitchen, who were all staring at her with questioning looks on their faces.

Amy spoke first, gesturing to the door.

"So, what the hell was that?" she asked, sounding dumbstruck.

"He came with some information," Renee said, "Not just for me, but for all of you – you ODSTs especially."

"What?" Mickey asked, "If they cut off our pay already I swear…"

"No," she cut him off, finding the words hard to say, "Quite the opposite I'm afraid. It hasn't happened yet, but in as little as few days we're going to be called back into service. All of us." She expected one of them to comment, but when no one did, she continued, "By the end of the week, we could be in a state of war."

"What the fuck?" Amy exclaimed, the voice for the others. The ODSTs' expressions changed instantly. Amy seemed rattled as well, "Why? What's happening? There's been nothing on the news…"

"As you know, we are allied with the Elites – and John told me we have been in communication with them for the past few days. Rebel Brutes as well as rebels from their own home world are instigating an uprising, which they suspect will turn into a war. It's only a matter of time. They've asked us to help them – and from what I guess, the decision has already been made."

"Shit," Buck breathed. He shook his head in disbelief. Veronica, Romeo, and Rookie were in a mute state of shock. Amy, of course, voiced her opinion.

"Why all of a sudden is it our job to help those split-chin bastards? They're far more superior than we are with their weapons and technology – let them fight their own fucking battles! Humans don't stand a chance against Brutes! If it weren't for John, Earth would be looking pretty crispy right now!"

"It wasn't all John, Amy. Our alliance with the Elites gave us an advantage – that's why we owe them. And who is to say, that since we are their allies, the Brutes won't end up coming for us as well?"

"This is bullshit," Amy shrugged, "I'm glad I quit when I did – you know what I'd tell them if I were you? I'd tell them to kiss my ass!"

"All of us who are currently enlisted don't have a choice," Renee announced, "They'll be calling us back into service."

"Well, we were foolish to think our break would last long," Buck said with a sigh.

"Dutch is gonna hate to hear this," Romeo pointed out, "Gretch, too. He just came home to her, and now he's gonna have to leave again."

"Shit, you wanna be the one to tell him, Romeo?" Mickey asked.

"One of us will have to."

"I'm getting almost too old for this shit," Buck sighed, getting to his feet, "Thanks for the coffee. I'll have to be heading back home – luckily I didn't get too settled in."

He made his way to the door, and the other ODSTs decided it would be best to leave as well. A sudden gloom had fallen over them with this news. Rookie stayed put, muttering goodbye to them. Buck gave Renee a hug on the way out of the door.

"Keep your head up, Lil Sarge," he said.

She nodded, watching him leave. She thanked Mickey again for the champagne, and he cracked a joke:

"Glad we celebrated when we did, huh?"

When the door shut, and it was just Renee, Amy and the Rookie, a silence fell that lasted for a few minutes. Rookie stared into the depths of his coffee mug, the contents had gone cold. Amy leaned against the counter, arms folded against her chest. Renee stood in the hallway, her mind buzzing with what had happened in the last hour or so. She knew she should feel overwhelmed, but strangely, the emotions she wanted to feel didn't seem to come through. She was… calm.

"What a fucking day so far," Amy finally remarked.

Rookie walked over to the sink and dumped the remnants of his coffee down the drain, and rinsed out the mug. He met Amy's eyes momentarily, then Renee's for a brief second, before leaving the room without a word. They could hear his footsteps as he went up the stairs.

"What else did John say to you?" Amy asked, "Like, what is up with you guys?"

"I told him what almost happened last night."

"With Rookie?" she looked surprised, "And the both of you are still alive? I could tell by the look on Rookie's face, he almost shit himself when he saw John walk in here."

"John believes everything is his fault," Renee dropped into the closest chair, feeling tears coming to her eyes again, "He blames himself for _my _actions – and I don't want that, but I can't even think of arguing with him, because within a few days I'll be back to war… I love him, Amy, and I realize that I belong by his side, even if it's in a battle that could potentially cost us both our lives."

"There's the saying that people do crazy things for love – but this takes the cake," Amy said, "I don't know what else to tell you besides do what you have to do and come home alive. You know where I stand when it comes to war, especially a war that's really not ours, but if you have no choice about being dragged into it, I wish you all the best." She smiled slightly, "Kick ass, I guess, like you always do."

The two friends hugged tightly. Renee, however, despite Amy's optimism, felt that what lay ahead of her and John, ahead of all the ODSTs, wasn't going to be an easy task. She knew, though, that she was more than ready to face whatever life was prepared to give her.

* * *

**A/N: **The last couple of chapters have been an array of twists and turns! Last chapter was received rather controversially, it was the first time in a while I had received a lot of mixed reviews – and because of that it leads me to believe a cliff-hanger such as that shouldn't be left for long without a follow-up – hence the quick update. They won't ever be more extreme than that again, I promise! Perhaps too extreme, especially with what everyone was quick to assume and what the ending strongly hinted at, it was almost cruel of me! Anyway I _hope _that you enjoy this chapter, better than the previous one at least! - AB


	37. The Turning Point

**A/N: **After two months – or is it close to three? – I'm finally back with a new chapter. I apologize for such a long wait, as it has been a busy time of year, regarding university finals, the holidays and such. I wrote this over a course of several weeks. It was initially started some time in December, but studying tore me away from it completely. This was due to be posted earlier, but Fanfiction had a bit of down-time as I understand, keeping users from logging in! It seems to be working fine now, and hopefully it stays that way.

I hope to be updating more frequently now – and once again apologize for such a long wait time. Consider this as a late holiday gift from me. Hope you enjoy it as always and all best in 2012. – AB

**Chapter 37: The Turning Point**

**October 12****th****, 2553 – Midnight – Los Angeles, California, USA – Earth**

The kitchen was illuminated by the single LED light from Renee's laptop. She was sitting at the table with it, having stared at the desktop screen until it had gone into the screensaver, flashing the few digital pictures she had in her possession as a slide show. Most were ones Amy had taken and sent to her – pictures from the various times they'd spent together since Renee had awoken from the coma. Renee stared perplexedly at them, her mind running a blank. In her hand, she held a champagne glass, filled with the remaining champagne from the night before. She sipped at it every once and a while in a hazy solitude. Rookie, who hadn't yet left, had gone to sleep a while ago, and she was alone in the darkness, half-drunk and unable to sleep. She was somewhat in a state of disbelief, for she felt really nothing, no remorse, even considering what had happened before. One steady thought floated through her mind unelaborated, simple in its presence. It just seemed to scroll lazily through her head over and over like an electronic sign:

"_You are going back to war_."

She hadn't planned on getting into the leftover champagne, but it had silently beckoned to her from the counter after her third lap of walking around the house like a lost puppy. Even before she had gotten into the bottle, feeling seemed to have left her body, a state of numbness enveloping her that was enhanced upon her decision to drink.

There was no one around this time, no one to see her, nothing negatively persuasive. Chances of a reoccurrence of the night before were null. Here alone, she could finish off the bottle of champagne – which was a very good brand; she noted the name for future indulgences – without having to worry about the possibility of making a fool of herself and regretting it the next morning.

Mulling alone with her thoughts was perhaps the best thing for her at the moment. For a fact she knew she wasn't anywhere near being short of things to contemplate, and in her alcoholic smog she could allow her mind to wander rather freely to dusty areas of her mind, that, in a sober state she would be more likely to avoid. It had trekked back eighteen years, fishing around in rich ponds of memories, finding in some memories that made her laugh aloud to herself there in the kitchen. Others, upon being discovered, made her recoil in realization that they hadn't been brought to light in so long for a reason. To herself in the past hour, she had laughed, she had cried, she had sat silently, feeling a tumultuous fear rushing back from the past to wrap around her like a cold, heavy blanket.

Safely said, her emotions were having a field day.

There was a creak on the stairs that finally tore Renee back into reality. She glanced up to see Rookie standing in the doorway of the kitchen, eyes at half-mast, in a olive-green t-shirt and simple black boxer shorts. Letting out a sigh, he leaned heavily against the doorway, taking in the scene from a sleepy perspective, and Renee could only look back, feeling like she was caught doing something she wasn't supposed to. She pondered foggily what to do with the champagne glass in her hand, before finally deciding on the decision to set it down on the table. Something reminded her of the fact that she and Rookie hadn't spoken since the morning after the party – which seemed so long ago, although it had only been twenty-four hours since its occurrence.

"You're up," this statement of the obvious was all that Renee could manage being caught off guard.

Rookie, seeming somewhat disappointed, crossed the room in his bare feet. He paused to meet her eyes, before swiping the glass of champagne from the table and with a smooth gesture, upended the contents into the sink with a splatter that sounded awfully loud in the few seconds of silence.

Renee's reaction was delayed, but only slightly – a sigh of frustration and disbelief.

"I thought you learned your lesson," Rookie said, setting the empty glass on the counter. He slouched back against it, folding his arms on his chest.

"I _was_ alone," she answered, her voice slightly slurred, "Until now. How did…"

"I got up to use the bathroom and saw you weren't in bed," he replied calmly.

"I'm sorry," Renee chuckled, resting her head on her hand, "You must have no respect left for me, not that I'd really blame you, my self-respect is low now too…"

Rookie sighed heavily, and pulled the chair out from the table next to her and sat down.

"You know better," he said, his voice sounding not as scratchy as usual. He paused thoughtfully for a moment. Other than saying that, he wasn't quite in the mood to try and console the ramblings of someone intoxicated. He truly questioned her actions at that moment, turning back to drink the very thing that wedged a rather awkward divide between them both just one night ago, "However it's somewhat relieving to see that I'm not the only one unable to sleep."

"I can't sleep," Renee stated the obvious again, "If you heard the news… that I heard…"

"I heard it too." He reminded her softly. She was making about as much sense as she had been the night before, although she didn't seem to have any crazy intentions.

"Oh, right." She remained silent for a moment before continuing, "If this is what you call fate, it sucks."

She left much unsaid and it took Rookie a moment to realize what she was talking about. He soon figured it out, however. She was talking about them being called back into service. He nodded in response, meeting her eyes. She had her head resting on her hand, her lips pursed thoughtfully.

"You must've seen my scars," Renee remained unfazed, "The other night. Helluva shitty awkward way to see 'em, but you saw them, right?"

Rookie took a moment to recollect. He indeed had briefly taken note of the scars that had covered her torso, before hastily throwing blankets over her to cover her nakedness and assuring her that the best thing for her to do would be to go to sleep.

He nodded.

"They say cats have nine lives," she declared, "I think something similar must exist for us, you know. Only so many times that we can get out of a situation by the skin of our teeth, until our luck finally runs out. There is a difference, between luck and chance, you know. It was luck that I survived being shot that time – in the end it wasn't up to the doctors, but to me, to survive. As for chance? Pure chance that I got out of that Innie bunker with my brains still in my head. John came in at the right time. My luck, I think it's run out. And I think, when I go and fight this war, I won't have luck backing me. If I am destined to die by a cause other than old age, it will be in this war." A strange smile crossed her face, and she laughed, "Just you wait and see."

Rookie was taken aback by her words, even with reminding himself she was drinking. It was said that some drunks spoke the truth aside from nonsense. Could this be nonsense, or what had been truthfully mulling about in her head?

"Don't say those things," he shrugged.

"But it's true, you know! True as I'm sitting here. I got a feeling, Rookie."

"You have a feeling that you're going to die?"

"Yes!" she seemed amazed by it, "I do."

"What about everybody else? Our team?"

"You guys will live – kick ass as always. Me? I think my days are limited."

"You need to sleep."

"Maybe I do."

Rookie stood up, and she copied him, surrendering the idea of sitting alone in the kitchen again. It was a lazy crawl up the stairs; Rookie seemed to be able to move swifter than she, and she noted by the way he paused at her bedroom door and gestured inwards, that he had no intentions of putting her to bed. It was underlying fear that she may try and pounce him again, Rookie realized, but although he knew she probably wouldn't, he wasn't going to take another chance. Besides, he didn't want to tuck her drunkenly into bed again – a part of him wanted to be as far away from her as possible in her current state. The way she was talking nonsense about her dying was freaking him out. He was never a fan of optimism, but speaking of death in such a way was even worse.

"Just go to sleep," he told her, walking backwards towards his room, "We'll come out on top of this war, just like we always do." He paused in his doorway, expecting her to make a snappy retort, but however he heard her shuffle into her room, and seconds later, the door being closed.

He sighed, making his way towards his bed. He was suddenly exhausted. Perhaps it was the heavy conversation topic Renee had chosen to delve into. Whatever it was, he fell happily into a deep sleep.

**State of Vadam – Yermo - Sanghelios – Triple Star System of Urs, Fied, Joori**

"Bringing the humans into this, are you sure it is a good idea?" Rtas 'Vadum demanded. His eyes were glued to Thel 'Vadam, who stood not far away from him.

The two had been close since they had returned to their home planet months ago. Despite their hopeful expectations of coming home to find Sanghelios peaceful, it was not so. Several civil wars had broken out and had divided many states in two – those who supported the alliance with the Humans and disregarded the Great Journey and the Prophets in their entirety, and those who still believed in the Covenant and the Great Journey.

Poor Thel, not that he had a history of good luck, came back to his state of Vadam to find the place was war-torn and full of crime and murder. The 'Vadam Keep had been under rebel control, and they had imprisoned those of royal blood and direct relation to him. Since his declaration by the Prophets as a heretic, the rebels took it upon themselves to wreak havoc on anyone who shared his surname. Citizens of Vadam were murdered and tortured daily. Children were drowned for the rebel's amusement. Many of the residents tried to flee Vadam, whether it be into the high, densely forested mountains, or to leave the state altogether and attempt to seek refuge in a neighboring one.

At first, it was only Thel, Rtas and a female Kaidon Sangheili of a neighboring state who tried to fight the rebels. Over time however, they gathered supporters and eventually executed a planned siege on the Keep of Vadam. They had successfully killed the rebels within, suffering not many losses on their own side. Thel freed his surviving relatives and demanded temporary control of the Vadam State. He ordered for all rebels within the state lines to be killed on sight, and for their heads to be brought to the Keep for a reward.

For a while, peace had been restored, and Thel had set an example to neighboring states, for similar sieges against the rebels occurred, and within a couple of months, they had almost been eliminated entirely from the continent of Yermo.

The peace had not lasted long. When the Jiralhanae invaded Sanghelios a week ago to the day, real hell had broken loose. They were still in possession of several ships, and a mixture of Covenant and their own weaponry. It wasn't exactly clear as to why they attacked, but the hatred between the Sangheili and the Jiralhanae was something that ran deep, going back for generations.

Most Sangheili guessed it was the alliance they had forged with the humans.

"Yes, there is no other way," Thel answered, seated in his hovering chair not far from Rtas. A servant approached, and offered him a drink, but Thel dismissed him with a shake of his head, "You don't think it was right of me to request their aid? They're our allies, they are supposed to help us in our time of need, brother."

"They are weak," Rtas told him, "I do not mean that offensively, they are strong in their own way – but against an attack like this? You know how easily the Jiralhanae can kill them."

"We were fighting the Jiralhanae in the War, Rtas. The humans did alright, considering we won?"

"You know if it weren't for our alliance Earth would be gone."

"True, but Earth is not gone, is it? Our alliance is powerful…"

"You are forgetting why, Thel. The key to our previous success is missing or dead, floating in the black of space," Rtas folded his arms on his chest, and watched the expression spark to life in Thel's yellow eyes. The Arbiter knew exactly who he was talking about.

"There are rumors that he has been found - alive," Thel muttered, seeming quick to dismiss Rtas' important point, "I've intercepted several human communications…"

"Rumors are rumors! Humans and Sangheili alike will speak optimistically of a hopeless situation to light belief in the impossible – surely you know that." Rtas received a rather intimidating look from Thel, and he decided to add on, "You have faith he's alive."

"Of course I do. The Master Chief and I fought side by side for what seemed like an eternity. He is the most talented human I have met. What I have learned in the short time being sided with the humans is that the majority of them are one of two things. Either they are good in battle, or they are good in wit. The Master Chief, or the Demon as I called him for a long time, is one of the few humans I met who excel in both. The whole time we fought alongside each other, he said maybe a handful of things. Each one, however, was not without thought. He doesn't waste a word, that Spartan. I knew since the first time we met, where he practically shoved a pistol down my throat, fully prepared to execute me with it that I was thankful I would be fighting on his side. I pity any Sangheili who faced him in battle prior to our alliance. He fought the Jiralhanae; the Flood; he fought our own kind. I refuse to believe the little slipup that occurred in our trip back to Earth would be the cause of his death." Thel paused thoughtfully for a moment, letting out a slight chuckle. He met Rtas' eyes, "I would not have called on the Humans if I didn't believe he was alive."

"Have you spoken to Ikre about this?" questioned Rtas. Ikre was the female Kaidon from Jyanam who had aided them against the Rebels. She had since gone back to her own State, where she spread similar rules of no-tolerance for Rebels. As far as they'd heard, she too was seeing to it that a bounty was put out on anyone suspected of being a Rebel, and if enough information came forth about an individual, they were put to death without even the benefit of a trial.

"No," Thel tilted his head to one side, "You may, if you so desire. She always seemed interested in what you had to say. Oh, and Rtas, you still have yet to take a wife."

Rtas stiffened at the mention of family and the fact that Thel hinted towards Ikre being a potential choice for him.

"Don't stray from what is important, brother." He said simply.

"But it is important – you know it would bring your State more power if you were to decide to marry Ikre. She's a Kaidon, and surely you know 'Jyanam has good reputation when it comes to trade. Their economy has managed to stay relatively stable even with all this trouble going on. Besides, you two have a lot in common. And how could she not accept? You are the great Rtas 'Vad…"

"Silence!" This was almost a snarl as Rtas clicked his mandibles in irritation.

Thel could read the anger on Rtas' face before he turned away, and with respect for his friend, he figured it would be good to drop this touchy subject. Rtas had a cynical view when it came to family life, and an equally cynical view on his own fame. He modestly believed that his accomplishments didn't deserve the attention they received.

"I'm sorry, brother," Rtas said after a moment.

"No, I was out of line. I apologize," Thel rebounded quickly.

Rtas grunted, folding his arms on his chest once more, mentally forgiving Thel. They were all finding themselves irritable since the Jiralhanae had made their first hostile move towards Sanghelios – an attack on a unarmed ship harvesting mineral ore from a planet several light-years away.

They had mercilessly slaughtered all on board, and stole the shipment they had been bringing back to Sanghelios. It was an act of piracy, but also an act of hostility towards Sanghelios and all her inhabitants. A couple more attacks like this occurred before the government of Sanghelios could come together to some sort of an agreement. Such a happening was testing to the newly formed government. It had been revised to accommodate the collapse of the Covenant, and was not as religiously strict. Since belief in the Great Journey had been mostly squashed – save for the few Rebels which were now, mostly disbanded, imprisoned or dead – this was a time of religious and economical discovery for government officials and civilians alike. Aside from trading still upheld between Sanghelios and the planets of Te, Balaho, and Eayan, home to the Mgalekgolo, Unggoy and Kig-Yar respectively, Sanghelios now functioned as an independent nation. There was much to be discussed and explored as to the possibilities and privileges of the independence and even presently there were laws still to be voted upon and rules set into place. In the chaos of the Rebel activity, and now, the war against the Jiralhanae, the Sangheili government found itself in a sticky situation. Although it had been agreed earlier on the declaration of war against the Jiralhanae and anyone who took to being their ally – suspicions were high as to the intents of the San 'Shyuum and even the Kig-Yar – there was much up in the air as to what to do next.

Many Kaidons of States with military history didn't care for the stalling the government was doing, and went into action on their own accord. Communicating with neighboring States, the Kaidons and Elders soon came up with military tactics and defensive operations for the day that the Jiralhanae decided to set foot on Sanghelios (at the moment they were simply cutting off trading routes and committing any acts of hostility they could against Sangheili vessels). They handled the situation much like they did with the Rebels – something that the government hadn't protested against, and the same outcome applied here. The government officials weren't stupid, and were open to suggestions from the State officials and even average civilians. They realized quickly that leaving the strategies of the war in the hands of those who had fought it just a few months prior was the best idea. Communication between the States and the government were frequent, and, in views of most of the Kaidon and the Sangheili press, they were getting along well.

It wasn't until Thel 'Vadam proposed calling upon the aid of the Humans did any controversy arise. Although everyone was mostly accepting of the alliance, there were still Sangheili that believed that their own military alone could stand up against the Jiralhanae without any help of the Humans. Thel made a good point, however, that if the Jiralhanae gained an ally, there would be a bigger issue, and it would be best that Sanghelios put their best foot forward and took no chances. Some officials complained that the Humans, with their technology, would take at least a couple of months to come to their aid and it was possible the conflict would be over by the time they arrived. Thel dismissed these points, although valid as they were, it was something that could be solved. If the human aid was needed so desperately, they could simply send one of their own ships to Earth to pick up the human troops. Aside from being big enough to carry enough troops and supplies, they were faster than the human technology, being able to travel light-years in hours as opposed to the light-years per day that the average human cruiser travelled.

Of course, from this, arose another issue – some debated that it was costly to maintain and ready their ships for such a voyage. Some said the Sangheili _da'kree _shouldn't be wasted on such things. Thel was quick to shoot this down, making a firm point that if the Jiralhanae had their way the _da'kree _would be worth nothing.

"Everyone is waiting for your next move," Rtas informed the Arbiter, "They treat your opinion as the best, even though so much controversy has arose from it. The humans will take a while to get here on their ships. Perhaps have you considered taking one of ours?"

"I've asked for one measly ship, but it won't be granted. I'm out-voted. They want all of our ships and soldiers here in defense of our planet. An excursion to Earth is simply out of the question," Thel answered matter-of-factly, "Not exactly the answer I was hoping to hear, but what can I do? We wait – and hope that we can keep those bastards at bay until they arrive."

"So they have confirmed they will help us."

"Yes, Lord Hood confirmed a couple of days prior."

"Will he accompany the troops?" Rtas inquired, "Although stubborn, I admired his battle tactics while we were fighting the Flood on Earth."

"Hard to say," he shrugged, "At the moment I do not know who exactly is coming to our aid, but you know who I'm hoping for. Hood promised us humanity would help, that is all I've heard. He will contact me when the troops leave Earth."

"Do they have any idea what to expect?"

"Honestly, brother, do _we_ even know?" Thel sighed, "War hardly ever goes as planned."

"I am sceptical, but I do admit, I trust your decision-making. It hasn't got you killed so far," Rtas let out a little chuckle, to which Thel let out a little scoff.

"To think what we Sangheili have been through in the past thirty years," he mused, "It's exhausting, and at this rate it seems like it will never stop. It's one thing after another after another. However, I try not to think that way. I hope that one day Sanghelios will find itself in peace."

Rtas let out a heavy sigh.

"Don't we all."

** October 13****th****, 2553 – UNSC Military Base – LA Branch**

Renee found herself stepping rather hesitantly from the back seat of a taxi at the entry gates to the UNSC base. She was wearing her dress uniform, and in her hand she clutched her bag of hastily thrown together belongings. Ignoring the flopping of her stomach, she glanced back over her shoulder to wait for Rookie to also exit the car. He too, was dressed in uniform and had his belongings in hand. He met her eyes and gave her a small smile of encouragement. From what they both had gathered, the rest of the ODSTs would be arriving soon, if they hadn't already.

They both passed through security, and Renee felt strange as the guards saluted her appropriately, accompanied with a "Sergeant." She could count the times she'd been saluted due to superiority on one hand, and almost wished she was a Private like Rookie. He received no salutes besides having them returned.

There was a troop transport waiting to drive them to the main base. The driver too, saluted Renee, which she returned almost awkwardly. Rookie jumped in the back without question, allowing her the passenger seat in front.

As the vehicle went down the road at a leisurely pace, Renee appreciated the wind on her face. It was an unusually warm day for October, and she was sure if it weren't for the breeze, she would be stifling in her uniform. She wasn't feeling well, anyway.

She and Rookie hadn't spoken much since the day before. Although Renee had a million things that she could talk about, she had held it back. Rookie, although he spoke, he still kept it at a minimum and she guessed that he wouldn't have much interest in what she had to say, anyway. Since the night of the party, she had assumed Rookie's opinion of her had changed, and of course, since it was her own fault, she figured not to bother him by trying to act like nothing had happened.

Rookie was a hard one to read, however, and a part of her sensed that really, his opinion of her hadn't changed much at all. He still regarded her politely, and still spoke to her, although sparingly. However, that could easily be attributed to the fact that up until today, he was a guest staying in her house. A part of her expected that now that was no longer the case, he would run back to his ODSTs and say little to her at all. In fact, she mused, he was probably glad to be out of such arrangements.

In the last few days, Renee was aware that her own self-esteem and self-respect dwindled considerably, which for a sergeant, wasn't a good factor. Although they weren't the highest of ranks, sergeants for the most part still were expected up uphold a position of leadership and responsibility, and to provide motivation, pride and encouragement for the men and women over whom they had command.

Renee no longer enjoyed seeing her reflection in mirrors, and had no desire to upkeep her appearance beyond what was necessary – and as far as she was concerned, that included personal hygiene and dressing every day – if she even managed to do that. The day before she had lounged around in her pajamas (which consisted an old high-school jersey and a pair of shorts with flower-print), hadn't even touched make-up, and sat on the couch with her laptop, getting up only to refill her cup of coffee or to grab something to eat. Getting into a cleanly pressed uniform with shining rank insignia was a big step from what in a short time had become her norm.

She knew that if she didn't consciously make an effort to improve, she could lose her rank, but that possibility didn't quite register as a threat. In her mind-set as of late, she didn't think of herself as being worthy of a rank such as Sergeant. Demotion actually sounded quite welcoming.

However welcoming it sounded, though, Renee realized that today without a doubt, she would see John –unless he had gone back to Florida - and she knew that he would be able to spot the change in her personality like a vulture. The last thing she needed was his nitpicking – it would only make her feel worse. Her confidence had drained since the night of the party, and although John knew what had almost happened, she didn't feel worthy of anyone's company, support, or friendship.

"Sergeant," Rookie's voice tore Renee from her thoughts. She blinked, and realized the vehicle had stopped and Rookie was standing waiting for her to get out.

"Oh," she murmured. She hastily stepped out of the troop transport, thanked the driver almost robotically, and met Rookie's eyes, "Sorry – I was in a daze."

To this, he didn't respond. The two of them walked up the steps and into the military base.

"There they are!" came an exclamation and they saw Mickey waving at them. He was standing beside Dutch and surprisingly, he didn't have Brute with him.

"Where's your cat?" Renee asked.

"Home with Gretch," Dutch answered, with a smirk, "She loves cats – so she's thrilled to have a companion of some sort while I'm away."

"I heard this would be quite a lengthy trip, so I figured I'd leave him in the hands of someone who could care for him better than me," Mickey admitted, "I'll miss the little guy, though." He paused, looking from Renee to Rookie, "So… you two are quiet. Well, Rookie usually is, but what's going on? Did you two get in a squabble over who gets the first morning coffee, or what?"

Renee shook her head, forcing herself to smile. As quickly as it came, it faded.

"We're to be gone long, you say?" she questioned, "How long?"

"Hard to say," Mickey folded his arms on his chest, looking to Dutch, "What was the estimation, bro?"

"We're looking at quite a tour. Six months to a year – and all for those squid-heads."

This response left Renee rattled.

"Why that long?" she demanded.

"Well, apparently it will take us at least a month or two to reach their system. Then we gotta fight this war, and then come home again."

"I packed light, then," Renee gestured to her bag.

"Ah, well, we did too. By the sounds of things, it doesn't seem we'll be wearing anything else but our uniforms," Mickey sighed. He glanced over Renee's shoulder, and his expression changed, "Oh, there he is! Lookin' sharp, sir!"

Renee's first thought was that he was talking to Buck, but when she looked over her shoulder, she saw that it was John. He was approaching them, also wearing his dress uniform; it proudly showed off his breast-full of medals, and of course, his rank of MCPON. Besides being rather striking in the said uniform, John looked like his regular self: towering a head or two over the majority of everyone else, his appearance neat, his complexion pale, eyes black, brows furrowed, and his mouth situated in a firm line. His face portrayed no real emotion.

As he came to stand beside her, Renee felt her stomach churn, and her eyes dropped to the floor. It didn't even occur to her to salute him – which was the action everyone did next.

"Crespo, have the others arrived yet?" John went straight to business; his voice was smooth and authoritative.

"No, sir. We're still waiting on Buck, Veronica and Romeo. From what I know, they're travelling together," Mickey answered calmly.

"Hmm," this was John's way of responding. He looked next to Dutch, "Miles, your rank pin is crooked."

"Oh," Dutch glanced down to himself, seeing what John pointed out was true, and quickly fixed it, "Thank you for noticing, sir."

Renee silently noticed that while John's appearance was recognizable, his personality at the moment was hardly so. She shot a glance to him out of her eye, and as she expected, he addressed her.

"Sergeant, come with me. I would like a word with you."

Renee gave a weary glance over her shoulder at the others, as she followed John, who wasn't going to wait for a response – it was an order, after all. The looks she received from the ODSTs were somewhat sympathetic, but Mickey gave her a comforting smile that made her feel a little bit better.

John surprisingly said nothing as he led her down a series of hallways. She guessed, by the way he looked in every open door they passed, that he was looking for an empty room in which to speak with her. She wondered, however, about what? He had left her home two days ago rather abruptly after delivering his news – like some messenger.

Finally, John peeked in the window of a closed door, saw the room was empty, and tried the knob. The door opened, and he held it open for her to enter first. Renee did, still not saying anything. The room she'd entered was a small meeting room. It had a holographic panel and a table accommodating eight chairs - nothing big.

She considered sitting, but decided to stand as John closed the door behind them, the sound quite loud in the silence. His footfalls even sounded loud as he took a couple of steps past her and took a seat at the head of the table. Not asking her to sit, nor remarking on her standing awkwardly, the large Spartan leaned back in the leather upholstery and sighed, making eye contact with her for the first time.

"Hello again," he said.

This wasn't what Renee had expected him to say. Somewhat flustered, she managed to return the hello. It sounded unusually quiet. She cleared her throat, hoping the next time she spoke her voice wouldn't fail her as pathetically.

John's eyes on her were piercing.

"You seem rattled," he observed, "Like you just met me, not like you've loved me for years."

"I'm sorry," she replied, her voice coming out stronger, "This is just unexpected."

"Yes, well," sympathy was strangely heard in his voice, "I know it is. It was to me when I first heard from the Arbiter." He shoved the chair closest to him out from the table with his foot, "Sit; forget the formalities, Renee, for Christ's sake."

Renee dropped into the chair. Her chest felt tight as she set her bag on the table and folded her hands on her lap. Meeting his eyes again, she spoke:

"So, six months to a year, is it true?"

John nodded.

"Seems awfully short compared to the last thirty years," he let out a scoff, then paused thoughtfully, and Renee could tell his mind was wandering places, wandering back in time. In a second, however, he snapped out of it, "I want to discuss something with you."

"What?"

"Well, it has branched into a couple of things. Firstly, I have a proposition to make – and before brushing it off childishly as you tend to do, I want you to hear me out and take this seriously; do you understand me?" John's voice grew serious at the end.

She nodded.

"I am well aware that you are indebted to the UNSC for at least another couple of years, and my proposition comes from this. You have probably been alerted to the fact now that this mission is not just a piece of cake. It blows the one we just returned from out of the water. As we speak, Humanity is at war again against the Brutes – called in to help our allies the Elites, like I told you two days ago." He paused, watching her nod, "Lately I have come off as distant and cold, and for that I apologize. However, your safety is still a priority to me, and by going on this mission you will be putting yourself into considerable danger." John stared into her eyes for a long time, "I have a way of getting you out of this."

Renee opened her mouth, but he instantly interrupted:

"Don't say anything. Let me explain. I can fill out a few papers and have you transferred to work in the ONI here in LA. That way you will be able to do the time you owe but not take part in any of this hell. You can thank Linda for this, she thought of it. Frankly, it's the best option, Renee. Please, take it."

"But _you_ won't be safe, John," she said – and at this, John sighed instantly, rolling his eyes.

"Name a time in my life I _have _been safe!" He snapped, "Just do as I ask."

"No – I want to go."

John surprisingly burst into laughter – laughter that Renee realized was sarcastic. He gestured towards her, shaking his head, still laughing, and then slammed his hand down on the table.

"How typical of you – I offer you a safe and reasonable option – and you don't want to take it. You have turned a complete 180. What ever happened to you just wanting to go home and live a normal life? That was what you were begging me to do. 'John, please come home', 'John, please this', 'John, please that', 'John, I miss you'. Now it's 'John, I want to go fight and get myself killed'. What the hell is wrong with you?"

"It's fate, John. I've been called back to war. I'm not going to take the coward's route."

John sighed, and stared at her for a long time.

"Your self-esteem has dropped since we came back. You're the sorriest looking Sergeant I've seen, yet you think you're capable of leading men into war? That's what you'll be doing, Renee."

"Demote me then," she said simply with a shrug, "You have the power."

"You have the power to be a great leader," He told her, "I've seen it come out in you time after time. What's happened to you? Is there something you're not telling me? I'll only ask this once, so tell me or hold your silence."

"Everything's just starting to take its toll, I guess. Ask Rookie, he's been putting up with me, the poor guy. Ask him what kind of drunken slob I'm becoming. He'll tell you."

John was contemplatively silent for a moment before speaking.

"You know, I'm glad Troy Fisher isn't here to see you." This hit Renee like a ton of bricks, and John could see it appear on her face. Knowing his words had power, he continued, "Look what mess he was in at the end of it, Renee. Did he become a drunken slob? No. He was on the edge of falling apart and he kept it together the best he could. He still did his job even though he was feeling like shit. Now think about it. How would it feel for him to see you turning into an alcohol-guzzling shell of a soldier?"

Renee could no longer meet John's eyes. She sucked in a deep breath, tears rolling down her cheeks. She shook her head.

"How do you think it makes me feel?" John asked, "How do you think it makes anyone feel, to see you doing that to yourself? If you are in the UNSC, you need to know how to put up with all the bullshit, and push it aside and do your job. That's the story of my life. Now, if you can bring out the Renee I know and love, by all means, join us in the docking bay. If not, I don't want to see you. I'll see to it that you'll be in an office in the ONI for the remainder of your required service." John stood up, and approached the door, "You have five minutes, Renee. Decide."

With that, he left.


	38. Onward March

**Author's Note:**

It's been too long coming! My life has been a whirlwind, yet I feel awful for not having updated sooner! Now that I'm back in the groove, I will have a little while where you can hopefully expect quicker updates – but I will let you know in the months of July and August, there will be hiatus, where the only internet access I'll have is from my phone and little writing app. Here comes the exciting news! I'm happy to say of May 17/12, I've become a reservist in the Canadian Forces, member of the 1st Battalion Nova Scotia Highlanders. In July and August, well I'll be off to do some basic training! I am absolutely excited as this will be a great experience, as well as an aid to me in my writing in a military regard. I hope to update at least once more before I ship out. I hope you enjoy this long-awaited chapter as well. Cheers - AB

**Chapter 38: Onward March**

**October 13****th****, 2553 – UNSC Military Base – LA Branch, Los Angeles, California – Earth **

John walked back out into the lobby of the military base, doing a quick sweep of the room to see if there was anyone remaining who belonged in the docking bay. With a low sigh of exasperation, he saw the ODSTs were still conversing in their little circle. He whistled loudly to get their attention, clapping his hands a couple of times.

"Come on, men, let's go!" his voice boomed as he approached them, "Docking bay, on the double, let's move it! This building isn't small, we've got a ways to go, get going!"

They obediently obeyed his orders, as they hurried to follow John, although their seemingly good moods weren't squashed. Buck, with a big grin on his face, who had joined them in the short time John had been gone, saluted him and threw in his two cents, catching up to the side of the tall Spartan,

"I don't think you'd have a hard time figuring out what you'd be good at besides being a Spartan."

"Oh?"

"Drill sergeant; you'd scare the trainee's shitless."

"Is that the main objective?" John asked with a smirk.

"Hey!" Mickey piped in, not missing a beat, "Where's Lil Sarge?"

John glanced back over his shoulder at him,

"Making a critical decision, men," he answered, "The little dip in her confidence, as you may have noticed, has taken the turn for the worst."

"She _was _acting a little down in the dumps, dunno why," Dutch told Buck, noticing his confused expression.

"Well we all are, none of us were planning to be called back so soon," Buck answered in a hushed voice.

"Wait, so you're saying she's not coming with us?" Mickey demanded.

"That's the decision she has to make," John replied simply, his face rather bland.

"What did you say to her?"

John heard an unfamiliar voice, and turned around, stopping. Everyone else halted, as their eyes turned to Rookie. He realized it was the usually silent ODST that had spoken. The one that Renee had allowed to stay with her, the one who she confessed she almost went too far with. For a second, John's heart rate soared, but he met Rookie's eyes with a calm stare. He could see the underlying intimidation on Rookie's face. It took guts for him to just speak, John realized - and to him, of all people. It was clear that Rookie knew on what thin line he was standing. The silence from the rest of the ODSTs was strong evidence towards that – but did they know about what had happened between him and Renee? Another quick glance to their faces told John no; no, they did not know what had gone on.

"I simply told her that in such a current state she would not be suitable to lead men into battle, which her rank will require her to do," John replied calmly, his voice level, "And, I said, in her current state _I _would not allow her to lead men into battle. I gave her five minutes to think things over. If she can prove to me that she can push aside her personal troubles, whatever they may be, then she may join us in the docking bay. However, if not, an office in the ONI would be best fitted for the remaining service required of her."

Out of the corner of his eye, John saw Buck nodding in mute agreement. No one objected, and John waited for Rookie's response.

"Do you have any objections, Trooper?" John asked him when he didn't reply quick enough for his liking.

Rookie shook his head.

"Or perhaps, do you have any information to share?" John took a bold step here, "You were living in the same house as Sergeant Kilburn since our return. If there is anything you know that could possibly explain reasons for her sudden change in attitude, feel free to discuss them with me, especially if it is at all incriminating or if you would like to argue her case."

"I know nothing that she wouldn't have already told you, sir," Rookie said clearly, not taking his eyes away from John's, "After all, you know her better than any of us. The decision is best left in your hands."

"Alright," John nodded, "Wisely said…" he paused thoughtfully, "This is not the first wise decision you've made this week. While I know, in the past couple of days, while Sergeant Kilburn's mind was in a fog, you managed to keep yours fairly clear. You know a bad decision from a good one. Some bad decisions… end up being the worst you could ever make, Private." John was surprised that Rookie continued to keep eye-contact, for he saw right through his composed face; the man knew exactly what he was referring to. "Keep using your head and you'll do just fine." He put a large hand on Rookie's shoulder for a moment, stretching his mouth in to a crooked half-hearted grin. Looking away from Rookie, he briefly met the eyes of the other ODSTs, giving them a little nod, "Gentlemen." Turning away, John was well off on his own down the hallway in several quick strides, before rounding a corner and disappearing.

Rookie exhaled a deep breath, staring after him. He was almost startled when Romeo touched his arm to get his attention.

"Hey Rook. What was that about?" he questioned, an eyebrow raised in curiosity.

Rookie simply responded with a simple shrug. He was done talking for now, and Romeo sensed it. He exchanged strange glances with the other ODSTs, who all were not completely sure what had just gone down between him and John.

"John's actin' a little weird," Mickey whispered, as if he was afraid John could still hear him, "Never mind him, Rookie. I think he missed taking his prescription or something this morning."

"Or he needs to be prescribed one," Dutch answered, "Maybe that death of his Spartan friend's really gotten to him. He seems off, for sure."

"Anyone know where Lil Sarge would be?" Buck still didn't seem satisfied with John's explanation earlier, "I'd like to go talk to her."

"Not sure, John took her down a side hallway, came back alone. Couldn't tell ya," Mickey replied.

"Didn't kill her, did he?" Romeo asked, a joking grin on his face. To this, Rookie, with a scowl, punched him in the arm, and he let out a howl, "Jeez, Rookie! Somethin' up with you too?"

"I need a coffee," Buck muttered, "Assigned to spend don't know how long with the lot o' you again. I'll be the next one fit for the loonie bin, trust me."

"Go find Veronica then if we aren't good enough for ya, Gunny," Dutch replied, "Get!"

"Who are you to give orders?" Buck snapped, "Let's get to the docking bay already before I see fit to kill one of you. We're all ticking time bombs on this lovely morning!"

"Blame Master Chief," Mickey replied.

"And Lil Sarge," Dutch added.

"They started it," Romeo finished.

"Just get going!"

Renee walked into the docking bay, taking in the busy scene quickly, looking for the man a head taller than everyone else. She spotted John not twenty feet away, giving orders. He still wasn't wearing his armor, and in the fluorescent lights of the room, his skin looked almost a sickly color, a white with a faint purple hue. The purple hues were more intense in areas of shadow, particularly the hollows beneath his eyes. He was looking around the room with a scrutinizing glare, eyebrows gnashed together and his mouth a taut line. Occasionally he'd gesture with a large arm, but other than that he kept his arms folded tightly on his chest, his weight bared casually on one foot, in more of a civilian stance than a straight-at-attention pose. She realized then, ironically, as much as John had chastised her about her behavior, he too, seemed to be slacking off. His attitude, that had once been proud, was now showing signs of weariness and indifference. Of course, when he was spoken to by a higher-ranking officer, his self-presentation would be flawless, but when there was no one there to impress, John took it easy. His age, for once, was truly beginning to show; he fit the bill for forty years old, even older. Faint traces of forehead creases were finding their place as permanent features from so much scowling, and his numerous scars added to his appearance of making him look weathered.

With her belongings thrown over one shoulder, Renee approached John boldly, walking within three feet of him and stopping. She waited several seconds for him to acknowledge her, she was presently out of his line of sight and it wasn't until he moved his head did she come into his peripheral vision. His head snapped immediately down to her, and the look she received from John was a long, intimidating stare, as if he was trying to see if he could see through her to confirm the sincerity of her decision. Did he look pleased that she had shown up? No, but he didn't look entirely upset either. Like usual, his expression was teetering on the borderline of two emotions that weren't easily classified.

"You really think you can do this?" he finally said, sounding rather doubtful despite his voice's lack of tonal fluctuation. For a moment, Renee thought it to be a rhetorical question, but when a couple of seconds passed and John's eyes never left her, she realized an answer was expected.

"I'm here, aren't I?" she quipped back, allowing her voice to be gentle, yet giving full reign to her eyes to carry most of the fire. She had spent the last five minutes drowning in thoughts inside that little room, her decision flopping back and forth steadily between staying and leaving, until, like a flip of a coin, she'd stood up from the table and headed towards the door, allowing the last thought in her head to be the decision she'd make. It had been to go to the docking bay. And here she was. She was not in the mood to tolerate John being doubtful of her, since he had been the one to give her such a harsh ultimatum in the first place.

"Well, Sergeant, you know what to do." John made a gesture with his head only, "Go."

Renee pivoted on one foot put paused, glancing back at him.

"Once we find ourselves on our way, would it be too much to request a conversation with you? I wasn't done back there before you so rudely gave me such a slap-in-the-face of a decision to make," a pause, "Sir."

"You'll know where to find me."

No, she wouldn't.

"And where would that be, John?" she pressed.

"My stateroom or the bridge. If I'm not in either of those locations, you come and seek me out at a later time. You're not a rookie, Sergeant. I wasted my breath answering that silly question of yours."

"There once was a time where I could ask you the color of the sky and you wouldn't think it silly. Have you forgotten those days? Perhaps conveniently so? I haven't; I can't. I am drowning in them." Renee's eyes didn't move from his face, and surprisingly, all the muscles in his face that had previously been held taut, softened and sympathy, or perhaps, even sadness, overcame him in one fell swoop.

"Drowning, but never dying," he agreed with a single nod, "You want to swim to the surface, but it seems so far away, and you just don't have the energy," John sighed, "Seems a lot easier to speak metaphorically doesn't it? In a way you're lying to yourself, but conveniently. Metaphors are great because you never have to truly mention what's driving you crazy. You sound like a damn poet and in the end nobody's got a clue but you and it's still your damn problem and no one cares."

"You're a cynical bastard," Renee informed him, but laughter found its way from her throat, a smile springing on her face. There was no point in remaining distant from John. He was acting to purposely drive people away from him, and she knew it. Although she felt like she hardly knew him nowadays, she knew where she stood and where she could stand. "That has never changed about you, John."

"What would everyone think if I suddenly started loving everything? They'd think me crazy." John was opening up. He took Renee's words as a compliment and she knew it.

"Some already do, I'm sure."

"Good. It's better when everyone thinks you're going to pummel them if they look at you the wrong way."

"Now, there was a time when I remember you appreciated Amy and I thinking the opposite!"

"You shouldn't have left Amy in her condition." John now was trying to make excuses.

"You're acting like I had a choice in this," Renee reminded him, "If you recall, I didn't."

"I gave you a choice and you picked the wrong one."

"If you knew what I was going to choose, why did you give me a choice in the first place? You have enough authority, you could've had me in that ONI office if you damn well wanted it, I know that! It's because you still care and you know I would've been drinking myself silly if I was anywhere near home."

"You admit to being irresponsible," John raised an eyebrow, "Don't make me doubt you further or I will re-decide for you."

"I won't be irresponsible here. I'll fight a war like I'm supposed to."

"You're being irresponsible having this conversation with me instead of helping your fellow soldiers. I think you might even be in a position to give orders to those beneath you," John raised an eyebrow, "It's been a long time since you fought a war. You talk about me not changing, look at yourself. The mind of a teenage girl…"

"Not the looks, though, I'm afraid!" Renee grinned, stepping back a few paces. She held out her arms in emphasis, "I'm nothing but a scarred old woman, and you a scarred old man. We're an excellent pair."

"Get to work." John said flatly.

"Yes, sir." She grinned, feeling a thousand times better than she had before. Although largely, John was still a pain in the ass and generally a miserable excuse for a Spartan, she had connected with him just then in a way she hadn't in a long time. The rollercoaster of the past few days was now reaching what it seemed to be a calm stretch, although she knew it would be sweet and temporary. For now, things seemed fairly clear and within a sudden realization she had come to accept what lay ahead of her and the team, no matter what it may bring.

She went usually back and forth on her theories of fate, some days dismissing it as a load of bullshit, and other days she believed fate had strong control of the lives of each and every human being. The latter theory was the one she now favored. When it would change, however, was uncertain. For now, she accepted the fact that it was fate that brought her here and it was in her destiny to go on this mission, although however easy it seemed for her to avoid it if she so wanted. Fate too, she believed, had control over her relationship with John. Although in the last little while it seemed like anything but, they were still tolerant of each other. While quite often John wanted to shake Renee silly for being so pig-headed and childishly ignorant, and Renee wanted to give up on John for having an exhaustingly negative outlook on everything, they still loved each other. It may not be the love it had been when they had first met, but it was love all the same and although some days they'd rather forget it, they both still felt it. Renee was feeling so positive about the entire affair that she decided once they were in Slipspace, she would go to John's stateroom and worm her way into his arms even if she had to beg him. She couldn't clearly remember the last time they had shared an intimate moment. It had been too long, and with the situation ahead, who knew when the next chance to do so could be. Months? Years?

"Never thought I'd see myself slingin' boxes of ammo around again anytime soon," Mickey was complaining when Renee was within hearing distance of the ODSTs. They were lazily working away at sorting out supply boxes, putting them into piles for dock workers who would take them away with forklifts to be loaded into the ship. Judging by the large amounts of supplies, there was no doubt expectations that they would be away for a long time.

"You aren't an officer; what do you expect?" Romeo was quick to remark, "We all can't be like John and get to stand around and watch."

"But we're a _special _unit. They shouldn't waste our talents on things like this. Should have regular marines slugging away at this dirty work!" Mickey looked up and noticed Renee had joined them. A sheepish grin instantly sprung to his lips, "Sorry, Lil Sarge!"

Buck, upon hearing her name, turned around, not caring he had an ammo box in his arms. He smiled:

"Good to see you've joined us! There were speculations that you might not show up."

"I'm here," Renee took a deep breath, "So, sorting it is?" She slung her knapsack from her shoulder and set it amongst the pile of the ODSTs' belongings and proceeded to crack her knuckles, "How heavy are these boxes?"

"The most you'll get is twenty pounds, nothing you can't handle, Lil Sarge," Buck handed her the box he had, "Put it over there with those. Ammo for the .50 cals."

"They're being awfully generous this trip, aren't they?" Renee remarked, straddling the box for a moment before turning and taking it to the desired pile.

"Too generous. You'd think we're never coming back with the supplies we've been loading!" Dutch commented, "Enough food to feed Earth's population, and enough ammo to kill 'em too."

"Does anyone know how far away Split-Chin Central is, anyway?" Romeo demanded.

"You mean Songhelleeits or whatever it's called?" Mickey made a face.

"Sanghelios." Renee piped in correctly.

"Yeah, that."

"No idea," Buck shrugged, "But a decent guess would be it is at least a month or two away. They'll most likely want to reinforce cryo-sleep too, to conserve supplies."

"Did ya see the rig we'll be sailing with?" Dutch suddenly seemed to be inspired by 18th century pirate-lingo, "Arrr, matey. Better be a good ship, with lots o' rum."

Renee and Rookie laughed at this. His laughter was the first sound Renee heard from him since she'd joined the group. He looked generally content. Probably because he was back with the ODSTs and no longer had to live with her, she couldn't help but hypothesize.

"Ask John, he'd know," Romeo said.

"Master Chief!" Mickey bellowed, spotting the Spartan about fifty feet away. John turned and his acknowledgement was an upward jerk of his chin, "What ship do we get for this mission?"

"UNSC _Bridgetown_, Marathon class!" John barked back, "We will be situated as the flagship of the fleet. The fleet will consist of, at the moment, our flagship, four frigates, and six to ten destroyers, all of which will contain troops, vehicles, and supplies."

"They aren't wasting any time, then!" Romeo muttered, "Getting things all organized just like back in the war. Jesus Christ."

"Lord Hood will be commanding the flagship, I bet," Mickey inferred.

"He wouldn't risk his ass to do that!" Dutch said.

"Well, he was around New Mombasa when all that crazy shit was going down. It wouldn't surprise me none if he's coming along!" pointed out Romeo.

"From what I can gather, the Spartans will also be on the flagship," Buck said.

"Putting the best the UNSC's got all on one ship, that's real smart!" Dutch scoffed, "They'd have to organize one helluva funeral if we get blown up!"

"Oh stop it, Dutch, nobody's getting blown up!" Buck snapped, "Where is your morale?"

"I'm just thinking realistically, that's all, Gunny, gimme a break."

"You know, thinking realistically doesn't hurt in a situation like this," Renee pointed out, "The UNSC wouldn't be sending a whole fleet if they didn't think something serious will occur when we reach Sanghelios."

"What exactly is going on with those lizard-faced twits, anyway?" Dutch was on a roll, hefting ammo boxes as he went, "They could kick the shit out of us if they wanted to, I don't see why they're calling on us to help them with whatever problem they got. They want us for cannon fodder, maybe! Unless they equip us with their weapons and make us invincible, I don't see how we'll be any help at all…"

"Jeez, Dutch…" Buck started.

"…What a crock of shit. They're sending us up shit creek without a paddle, I'm telling ya. All to help our dear Elite allies! Well, just cause they're our allies doesn't mean I'm gonna be nice to 'em! They weird me out with their mandibles, just like insects but with lizard faces, and they always shoot off with that _wort wort wort _shit. Sound like a buncha pigs or somethin', with all their snorting and growling about nothin'…"

"Dutch!" Renee cried, laughter in her voice, as Dutch continued, mumbling to himself in frustration. Rookie was shaking his head, unable to hold back a smile.

"Somebody _please_ tell me they're recording this," Romeo said in amazement.

"Yeah, and send it to HQ," Mickey snorted, "Entitled: _An Honest Opinion: Morale Aside_."

"Well it pisses me off, alright?" Dutch snapped in defense, "I could go on and on… though it won't make any difference, so I'll spare you the serenade. Though you all seem to be enjoying it."

"You can rant, I'll give you that!" Buck approved.

"Damn right I can. And this is about something I half-ass care about! Don't get me started on something I'm passionate about hating!"

The ODSTs and Renee laughed once more, before continuing on with their work.

"She's still kicking, I see." Kelly had come to stand by John's side. Her eyes were glued to Renee as she worked alongside the ODSTs. John too, fixed his gaze on the sergeant, knowing if he looked to Kelly she would be able to see right through him.

"Yes; I'm quite impressed by her work ethic." He replied calmly.

"Aside from the retrieval mission, she hasn't been deployed, has she? Hasn't seen battle since '35," Kelly didn't wait for John's answer. She instead continued, "you had mentioned something about finding her a place in the ONI."

"I had, yes. And I did offer her a place. She refused."

"For Christ's sake, John, that's what your rank is for. You don't offer it to her! You just inform her that is where she will be placed and that it's an order. That simple." Kelly shook her head, staring him down although he had yet to meet her eyes, "You want her coming with us, don't you? That's why you gave her a choice because you knew where she'd choose to go. You think she'll stand a change with what we will be up against? I know you care about her still, but this is being selfish, don't you think? You want her with you, but you are practically leading her to the slaughter house. If you truly cared about her you would tell her to stay home where it's safe. The option that none of us here have."

"I gave her a choice, not an order, on purpose. By having a choice, it is her own decision, not mine. I don't want to make decisions for her. I trust she's smart enough to realize what she's getting into and what she could avoid if she went the other route."

"I suppose you won't want to make decisions for her funeral, either? She can't decide shit-all when she's dead. All of us saw how torn up you were when she went into that coma years ago. All of us know how you carry each one of our fellow Spartans' deaths on your shoulders like it's your fault. Look how you were, how you still are, about Elsie's suicide, and she was a Spartan III. If Renee dies, I don't want to see what you'll be like."

These words of Kelly's penetrated John enough for him to meet her eyes. When he did, his expression was momentarily vicious but it softened as quickly as it had come. He gave a subtle nod, and a quick exhale of breath was a barely noticeable sigh. His response, however, was opposite of his manner, as if the actions had snuck up upon him before he realized:

"She won't die. I won't let it happen."

"Everybody's time eventually runs out, John. We just don't know when."

"Well, my time will be up long before hers," John was glaring off somewhere, his jaw set. Almost forcibly, he rolled his shoulders in a nonchalant shrug, "I know that."

"I don't even know what to think about you anymore," Kelly sighed, "You've changed so much in many ways but in a certain way you haven't changed at all. You're stubborn as a horse and cynical as the devil himself, although I can relate with both. That fondness you have for Kilburn, though, it must be what people call love because it's plagued you for years."

"Hm," John remarked, "Some days I think it's a curse. Others, however, I realize just how lucky I am. She's been there for me when I needed her the most. Off and on I've been taking drugs that mess with serotonin levels in the brain. The initial side effects weren't pleasant and what I was seeing and thinking before I had them were even worse. There were days I wanted nothing more to be put out of my misery. Yet she was there to comfort me and assure me everything would get better. Many nights I was hanging on her words, willing them to be true."

"Were they true?" Kelly asked, "Have things gotten better?"

"In some ways, they might have. In other ways, things have only worsened."

"Does she still care for you?" Sensing John's openness, Kelly asked the daring question, "I used to see it plain as day between you two, now it's… not as easy to detect."

"Her feelings for me still exist, they haven't wandered. Although I do think they've dwindled slightly, and really, I can't blame her. I haven't been there for her as much as I suppose I should've. I stayed in Florida when she went home, and she wanted me to come with her so badly. Things with us just aren't like they used to be."

"Nothing is like how it used to be anymore. Life has changed, and unfortunately in some ways not for the best. It seems lately that we are much like pawns in a chess game, waiting for fate to decide our next move."

"I agree," John said, unfolding his arms from his chest and putting them in his pockets, something unusual that Kelly noticed right away. He seemed to notice it too, glancing down at his unexpected stance, and withdrew his hands, flexing them by his sides as if he didn't know what else to do with them. Finally, he refolded his arms on his chest, although cupping his chin and mouth with one hand. Meeting Kelly's eyes, he bit back a smirk behind his fingers, "Kelly, am I alive?"

Kelly's confused expression that took over her features caused John to begin to chuckle.

"Yes, you are," She said slowly.

Still chuckling, John lowered his hand, bearing a full-toothed grin. Kelly began to take notice of his pallor, which even for him, seemed unnatural. He closed his eyes, then opened them, and swayed gently on his feet.

Before Kelly could even comprehend the situation, she saw John drop out of consciousness, and she reached out in lightning speed, curling her arm around his shoulders, following him to the ground as the large Spartan collapsed. She heard a girlish scream, which in the sudden shock, took her a moment to realize was her own.

"John!" Kelly shouted, and it didn't take long to catch the attention of everyone in the room. Some had seen John collapse, others were just cluing in to what happened. Some rushed forward, others gawked. Kelly whipped her head around, searching for a familiar face. The first she saw was Renee's. The girl looked horrified, her gaze going from John to Kelly's eyes.

"Sergeant Kilburn! Go get Doctor Halsey, hurry!"

Renee dropped the ammo box she had been holding and sprinted off, her face pale. The room was abuzz, people crowding around John. Kelly ordered them to stand back, to give him some space. In the sea of faces she recognized the ODSTs, expressions confused. She looked down to John, pressing two fingers to his neck in haste to feel for a pulse. Her stomach flopped, yet relief washed over her when she felt one. It was there, yet faint. She scanned John's body, her mind racing over the basic first aid she knew. His eyes were closed, yet he was still breathing and alive. A cold sweat was beginning to break out on his forehead. His body was limp. He'd passed out, she concluded, but why? She was beginning to panic, but then she heard voices from the back of the crowd start to push through to the front.

"Move aside!"

In a second, Dr. Halsey had dropped to her knees beside Kelly. Kelly let out a sigh of relief, watching the doctor as, in a moment, she had her hand to John's neck, "He's still breathing," muttering more to herself than anyone else, "Unconscious, lack of color in the skin…" in a second she opened John's mouth, "Signs of dehydration…" She looked up to Kelly, "Do you know the last time he ate or drank?"

"No ma'am," Kelly was aware of the shakiness in her voice.

"Oh John, you stupid fool…" Dr. Halsey muttered to the Spartan, convinced already of the cause of his unconsciousness. She glanced back over her shoulder and saw a couple of medical technicians had arrived, "He's too big for that stretcher. Give me that pillow. Might as well keep him here for now; bring me an IV drip with fluids, or a bottle of water, whatever you find quicker. He's severely dehydrated; we need to get some liquid into him immediately." As they medical technicians hurried off, Dr. Halsey spoke to those who had crowded around, "Stand back! Let us have space! He will be fine, forget not he's a Spartan. Get back to work, don't let this impede you!" She caught Renee's eye, "You can stay, Sergeant."

Looking shaken, Renee took a step forward and dropped to the floor beside the doctor and Kelly. Almost fearfully, she asked, "What happened? I had just spoken to him, he seemed fine…"

"He's severely dehydrated, and quite possibly, starved as well. Looks like John has neglected to take care of two of his body's basic needs," Dr. Halsey was shaking her head, as if she didn't believe the words, "Passed out due to weakness and low sugar levels, I would imagine."

"But, why?" Kelly and Renee asked at the same time. They met each other's eyes for a moment before looking back to Halsey for the answer.

"Your guess is good as mine," Dr. Halsey felt John's forehead to check his temperature. At the touch, John's eyes fluttered, and in a moment he opened them. Confusion crossed his features, and he went to lift his head from the pillow Halsey had hastily tucked beneath his head, yet Kelly pushed him down firmly. John went to speak, but it came out simply as a groan.

"Do either of you have anything sugary?" Dr. Halsey demanded of Kelly and Renee, "Chewing gum, a mint, anything?"

Renee dug in her breast pocket and held out a chocolate bar she had brought from home. Dr. Halsey took it, hastily unwrapping it. Snapping off a piece, she promptly shoved it in John's face.

"Eat," she ordered.

Kelly held up his head, and John obediently took the piece of chocolate in his mouth and chewed.

"Didn't intend to black out," John muttered through a mouthful of chocolate.

"Well you should've expected it. When was the last time you ate or drank?"

"I don't know," he answered, accepting another piece of chocolate that Dr. Halsey was holding out.

"John, why would you do that?" Renee demanded, realizing it must've been intentional, "You're a Spartan, but even you need food and water."

"I was wrapped up in everything, I guess I just… forgot." John was honest. He took the remains of the chocolate bar in his hand, studying the brand name on the wrapper as if it was an interest to him. Despite Kelly's effort, he slowly sat up, putting one hand to his head.

"Don't do that to me again!" Kelly snapped at him, clearly upset, "I didn't know what was wrong with you!"

Dr. Halsey glanced back over her shoulder and saw one medical technician returning with a litre of bottled water. She took it from him, muttering a thank-you, and then unscrewed the cap. John didn't have to be told it was for him. He took it, and drank several big gulps before wiping his mouth, and making eye contact with each of the three women sitting by his side, his gaze coming to rest on Renee.

"Don't look at me like that," He said with a frown, "I'll be fine. Get back to work, Sergeant."

"You owe me a chocolate bar," Renee muttered, obviously upset that he was once again acting indifferent towards her, "Take care, John."

As she got up and went back to the ODSTs, John found himself under scrutiny from Dr. Halsey and Kelly. They both were glaring at him with equal disappointment.

"You'd think you're an officer with that attitude!" Kelly seemed shocked, "And considering what we were talking about just before you decided to black out! That was like pretty much a slap in the face to her, she's just concerned like we are, and you were like 'Get back to work'." Kelly successfully imitated his voice, although with a sarcastic addition of extra gruffness added in.

John shook his head wordlessly, and took a drink of water. He glanced over to Dr. Halsey, and saw by her expression that her mind was abuzz. He hadn't seen much of the doctor in the last couple of weeks, although he knew that she had been well aware of his seclusion after Elsie's death.

"I'm coming on this mission, you know," Dr. Halsey told John softly in almost a motherly tone, "And before everyone goes into cryo-sleep, I'm having a _long _talk with you. Take it easy for the remainder of the day." With that, Dr. Halsey was to her feet and making her way back across the docking bay.

Kelly watched with amusement as John followed Dr. Halsey with his eyes as she left, his water bottle halted just inches from his lips, a sort of disbelief written across his features. Although Halsey was a civilian, she might as well have borne the rank of Admiral. What she said went, and even John knew better than to argue.

John's disbelief flowered into sudden irritation, shooting a glare at Kelly. Getting to his feet, however, he whistled, and called Renee's name. She looked over, momentarily looking like she was going to tell him to go shove it, but when he waved her over, she approached.

"I'm sorry," John said, his voice gentle, "I didn't mean to snap at you."

"It's alright," Renee was relatively forgiving, shrugging her shoulders, "That chocolate bar won't be enough though. Maybe I'll ask Kelly to see to it that you go and stuff yourself at the nearest mess hall, sir."

"I'll eat, don't worry."

"Don't let this happen again, please. Especially in the upcoming months."

"I will." John glanced to Kelly, who didn't look convinced. When he met Renee's eyes again, he could see that she didn't either. Desperate, he said, "I promise. You know what I say about my promises."

Renee nodded, smiling slightly.

"We do have lots of work to do," John made a point, "We'll be shipping out late this evening around 1900 hours, I do believe. There'll be plenty of time to talk later, I promise that too."

"Alright," she answered, "I'll head back to work. Take care of yourself!"

"Please," Kelly added, giving John a light elbow to the ribs. He grimaced slightly, yet nodded, muttering something about making another promise. He watched as Renee went back to the ODSTs, and even without being able to hear, he could tell the way they crowded around her that they were anxious to know what was going on. Gladly, however, John watched in pantomime as Renee shook her head and waved off their questions, probably assuring them that he was fine.

He sighed, and took another bite of chocolate, chewing thoughtfully. He truly couldn't recall the last time he had eaten. It wasn't a lie when he had told Halsey that he had become too wrapped up in what was going on. It had been on his agenda to eat, eventually, but he hadn't expected his body to be so forceful in getting him to do so. Usually he wasn't one to black out. It had overcome him so quickly, a wave of dizziness and euphoria, then weakness so great that he felt that his legs were made of rubber. He remembered starting to fall, but that was it.

"I can watch things here, if you'd like to get a bite to eat," Kelly offered. She had settled down and was now just relieved that he would be okay, "The café's open, I don't know if they'd have the mess-hall ready for lunch yet or not."

John knew he couldn't say no. He nodded, but before leaving he said,

"Don't say anything to the other Spartans about this."

"I won't, but if Halsey doesn't, they'll catch wind of it somehow. If I see them I'll tell them to give you a break, okay?"

"I'd appreciate it." John paused again thoughtfully, "It doesn't seem like we're really doing this, does it?"

"Maybe you're still a little out of it," Kelly told him, "It seems real enough to me. I'm glad that we've been assigned this mission, we Spartans all are. Keeps us in commission for a little while yet, at least." She smirked, "Oh and John, while you're in the mood for making promises, do make one for me. Promise me you'll make it through this alive."

John didn't bat an eye.

"Promise."


	39. Towards Uncertainty

**Chapter 39: Towards Uncertainty**

** October 14****th****, 2553 – **_**UNSC Bridgetown **_**–Slipspace – en route to Sanghelios**

The prep for launch had flown by faster than anyone had expected. Earlier yesterday morning, troops had been still arriving, plucked back into service and some weren't even sure why. Now, with the time just past one in the morning, the fleet – the largest seen since the war - was launched and had entered successfully into the Slipspace void. Calculations had been set. The allied planet of Sanghelios was approximately 61.7 days away. Just over two months of travel lay ahead, and orders were that all personnel would find themselves a cryo-tube within forty-eight hours to conserve supplies.

Onboard _Bridgetown, _the designated flagship, the atmosphere was lazy. Being the largest ship in the fleet, it carried over a thousand personnel and tons of equipment and supplies. Despite the large number of life aboard, the hallways were mostly empty. Some personnel had already entered cryo-tubes, seeing to it that orders were followed immediately. No one was looking forward to such a long travel time, nor did some particularly care for the set destination. However, orders were orders and the Sangheili species was now an ally that requested Humanity's services.

Renee lay out on her bed, a single, narrow thing with a pillow that felt like cardboard. Due to the number of crewmembers aboard, and her rank, all of the private rooms had been given to officers. She found herself in a room with a bunk bed atmosphere, something she hadn't experienced since 2535. The room consisted of three, two-tiered bunks, and accompanying lockers, accommodating six people. Luckily, the other five people with her were the ODSTs. However, Veronica, being an officer, had been given a private room.

"This is cozy," Renee heard Mickey say above her. He had quickly snagged the top bunk when they had been issued the room, "All of us together in a little room, snug as bugs. Too bad we won't be here for long."

Buck, who accommodated a lower bunk across the room from Renee's, quickly voiced his opinion on that.

"Who you kidding, Mick, I'd go crazy if we weren't given cryo-tubes."

"Ditto, it'd be a long two-months sharing a room with you guys," Romeo muttered from the top bunk, above Buck. He was sitting on the edge of the bed, letting his feet dangle down into Buck's space, obviously daring.

"Your feet smell, Romeo," sure enough, Buck had something to say about it.

"I've been working hard all day, gimme a break, Gunny."

Rookie, who had claimed the third and final bottom bunk, was lying relaxed on the mattress, the pillow pulled over his head. He was without a doubt, fast asleep. Dutch, who was above him, hung his head down to take a peek, and remarked,

"I honestly don't know how he does that."

"Rookie?" Mickey asked, "He can fall asleep at the drop of a hat. Lil Sarge, you lived with him, you can vouch for that I imagine."

"He spent most of his time sleeping," Renee answered with a smile, propping her head up with her hand, "Either that or using my coffee machine, or putting up with me." Her smile faded at the last option. She paused thoughtfully, "I want to apologize to you guys, for my behavior today. It was off. John was right to call me out and lecture me on it."

"It's perfectly alright, Lil Sarge," Buck told her, "We're all off. None of us had been expecting this."

"Even John's off, randomly fainting like that," Dutch brought up the scene from earlier, "I heard a rumor going around that it was some sort of mental breakdown. Others have been sayin' it's a Spartan malfunction, but I know enough about the guy to know that he's not a cyborg."

"You know what happened to him," Romeo looked to Renee, "I can understand not wanting to tell us earlier, but come on, you mustn't like the rumors! Tell us the truth and we'll help spread it."

"It was dehydration and low sugar levels," Renee answered quietly, "I guess John got too wrapped up in the events going on that he forgot about eating or drinking – or so he said."

"There's something more to it than that," Mickey hypothesized, "I mean, wouldn't he have felt his stomach growling, or been thirsty? John chewed you out for not being a responsible soldier, Lil Sarge, but I think he should take a step back and look at himself. Someone in their right frame of mind doesn't just forget to eat and drink! If anyone has the ability to find out what is wrong with him, it's either the Spartans or that Doctor, or you."

"Oh it won't be me, Mickey, I'm certain!"

"Then Doctor Halsey will get it out of him," Buck said, "Although she's a civilian she's got the Spartans on invisible leashes, including John. If I didn't know better I'd say she's the mother of them all."

"You should at least give it a try, Lil Sarge. Talking to Chief, that is." Romeo urged, "He might've calmed down by now. Do it while you've got a chance, before the time's up and we all gotta head to the freezers."

"I suppose I could," Renee sat up, heaving a large sigh. She reached for her boots and began putting them on. It had been her intention earlier the other day, but since John's incident, going to see him had lost its priority. Part of it had to do with the fact that she would probably have to get through a couple of his Spartans first, and secondly she figured he wouldn't be in the mood to have anyone bugging him about it. It was like the time on Earth, when he had been playing with Troy at Amy's and had passed out. He didn't appreciate being taken to the hospital and didn't want people fussing about him either. Mickey did make a good point, however. There probably was more going on in John's head than what he was letting on. Since the contact between her and John had dwindled, she wasn't able to keep tabs on whether John continued taking his prescribed medication for PTSD or not. If he had abandoned them, then that could be a reason for his abnormal behavior. Then again, Renee realized that John, whether on medication or off it, hadn't been what would be considered "normal" since he first returned from the war.

"Remember to act like a Sergeant, too. Get some good points. Don't be personal with him 'til you've got him alone. Salute and use sir like it's going out of style. Impress, impress, impress!" Mickey was saying as he watched her lace up her boots, "You got a smudge on your left boot, Lil Sarge."

"I'm not going to an inspection," Renee laughed, but she quickly spit on the smudge and wiped it with her sleeve.

"Keep us updated on what you find out," Buck said as she stood up and headed for the door.

"Will do. I need to find him first," Renee gave a little smile before leaving the room.

Walking down the ship's hallways, no one would've guessed it was heavily populated. On her way towards the officer's quarters, Renee passed maybe two people. The third she spotted in the halls was luckily a Spartan. Tall, yet not incredibly obvious, she recognized the man with the guy-next-door looks to be Frederic-104. Her eyes went to his uniform, and saw he was a Lieutenant.

"Lieutenant, sir," She addressed him. When he turned, she quickly saluted. He returned her salute, although it was optional. She read into it, realizing he was one of the more approachable Spartans.

"Sergeant?" he answered, his voice smooth.

"Would you happen to know where the Master Chief would be, sir?"

"In his room, Sergeant," Frederic raised a brow, "Although I don't know if he would want to be disturbed."

"He told me to find him, sir. I believe he wishes to speak to me," Renee told him. It wasn't totally a lie.

Frederic narrowed his eyes, and she saw he glanced to her surname.

"Ah, Kilburn," he said it aloud, "So you're the one."

"Sir?"

"I've heard about you."

"Good or bad, sir?"

Frederic didn't answer, he gestured down the hallway.

"Master Chief's room is the last on the right. I'd recommend buzzing first."

"Thank you, sir."

Renee headed down the hallway. A few steps away, she glanced over her shoulder. Frederic-104 was gone. She wondered what exactly he'd heard about her, and if it had come from John's mouth or someone else's. Regardless, she figured she probably didn't have the best reputation in the UNSC. To the Spartans, she was probably infamous. To anyone else, she was probably mostly unknown, or regarded as the marine that hung around with the ODSTs. Anyone that knew about her relationship with John was probably long dead or no longer serving. It hadn't been openly public since 2535, where she knew she and John had been not very secretive about their affections for each other.

She hit the buzzer on the door, and waited a few seconds, listening for any sounds within the room. Although she heard none, the door opened. John was stealthy; she shouldn't have expected to hear him. She found herself having to crane her neck to meet John's eyes. His bulk seemed to fill the whole doorframe, leaning on it quite heavily, no longer in his armor. He was instead wearing standard issue sleeveless top, trousers and combat boots. His expression portrayed neither surprise nor annoyance. It was instead a rather blank stare. That's when Renee clued in that he was expecting her to speak first. She noted he didn't move back from the door to invite her in.

"How are you, sir?" She kept to formalities due to the fact she was still standing in the hallway.

"Fine." John answered crisply.

"Did you get something to eat?"

"Yes I did."

"May I come in?" she couldn't believe she had to ask.

John narrowed his eyes, as if he was strongly contemplating the idea, but with a grunt he stepped back into the room, freeing up the doorway. He gestured over his shoulder for her to enter. Renee did, and as the door hissed shut behind her, she could feel the buildup of awkwardness beginning to thicken.

"You're lucky, getting a room all to yourself," Renee began, talking about the thing that first came to her mind, "I'm sharing bunks with the ODSTs."

John sat down on the edge of his bed. He didn't reply. He instead looked across the room to a mirror that was on the wall.

"Before you proceed with any questions," He spoke suddenly, as if what he was going to say hadn't been planned, "Dr. Halsey came by earlier. You do recall what she said, about wanting to speak to me." He waited for Renee to nod, "Well, she did. So forgive me if I'm not in the mood to have similar, if not the same scolding tossed my way."

"I didn't come to scold you," Renee said. Boldly, she walked forward and sat down beside him, "I just came to talk." John didn't look like he had been expecting that reply. He looked to her, his gaze unrelenting. Smiling slightly, Renee reached up and touched his face, "Maybe I care about you too much."

John seemed to stiffen at her hand on his face, but almost hesitantly, he reached up and grabbed her hand. However, he didn't move it. There was a long moment that passed where they remained like this, just looking at each other, unmoving, not saying anything.

Finally with a sigh, John dropped his head on Renee's shoulder. It was a swift movement of resignation, and she felt his large arms encircle her and squeeze slightly. She reached up, stroking his short hair with one hand. This almost felt foreign between them, yet at the same time gave them the same feeling inside that it always had.

"You're being too rough on yourself," she whispered to him, pecking a kiss on his forehead. They gently rocked together, like a mother would to a child. She momentarily thought of reprimanding him for earlier, but figured Halsey had taken care of that.

John heaved another sigh, nuzzling his head further towards her neck.

"I know," he murmured. His face looked like stone, but Renee knew this gesture said enough. He didn't need expressions to accompany it. They sat in silence for a few minutes. John felt vulnerable in her arms, with his head resting on her shoulder, but at the same time, he could feel some of the stress slipping away like a huge weight off his chest. He could smell the sweetness of Renee's skin, and could feel her heartbeat, and cherished her body's warmth. Even her fingers gently stroking the top of his head were soothing. "I feel a little bit better now," he announced truthfully, his voice sounding gravelly despite the lack of volume he put into it, "Thank you for visiting."  
"It wouldn't be right if I didn't. And I figured I might as well come now before we're ordered to the freezers," Renee gave a little shrug. John lifted his head lazily from her shoulder, meeting her eyes.

"Ah, right." He answered, remembering, "Everyone?"

"As far as I know."

"It's for the best. We'll need every last bit of supplies when we arrive at Sanghelios," John said matter-of-factly.

"Do you know what to expect when we arrive?" Renee asked him. The last Elite she had seen in person was the one that had almost killed her. It still didn't seem right that they were now going to help the same species that had slaughtered so many humans. The idea of peace between them was soothing, but the Brutes, a species of Covenant she'd only seen pictures and videos of, still hated Humans and now turned on the Elites.

"Not really," John was truthful, "Lord Hood has sent a message to Sanghelios to inform them we're on our way and when we should be expected to arrive. The Arbiter sent a confirmation message back just an hour or so. He gave a briefing as to what's going on in Sanghelios. So far, the conflict hasn't made landfall. It's mostly ship-to-ship, or on planets used for ore. The tensions are high; the Arbiter expects it could turn for the worst any day now."

"It's going to be odd, don't you think? Fighting alongside the Elites instead of against them. I mean, you have already during the last part of the war, but…"

"You haven't, that's right." John said, recalling the last time she would've seen one, "It's hard not to bitter towards them, but you will become used to it. The Arbiter had my back in more than one situation. I returned the favor. However, when I first met him, I shoved a pistol down his throat and was a finger-squeeze away from blowing his brains out. You most likely will want to do the same on instinct. However, it's best just to put aside the past conflict. They are our allies now. We wouldn't have won the war without them."

"I hope I'm with you when I see them first," Renee said, "I'm not sure how I will react. I can't forget that _day_. Ever."

John reached over and instinctively took her hand, giving it a squeeze.

"I know. Just be strong. You'll be fine." He paused for a moment, looking thoughtful, "Would you get mad if I were to say I still wished you had taken up my offer to stay back on Earth?"

"No, because I know you still think it. I don't blame you, either. When we took off, I realized what exactly I was getting myself into, but it was a brief moment before I pushed it aside. I'm not worrying. There's no sense in worrying. What will happen, will happen. I just wish I could know what." Sensing the subject had almost run its course, Renee changed it, "I hope Dr. Halsey wasn't too hard on you."

"She had every right to do what she did," John shrugged.

"You've got something on your mind and you haven't told me exactly what it is. You can't fool me, you just can't _forget _to eat or drink."  
"The last few days have just been a haze to me." He answered, "It was silly of me to do what I did, not eat or drink. I was just so enveloped in my thoughts. It is hard to explain, Renee. Even to you. I honestly don't know if I can. Just understand this: I won't make the same mistake again."

"Are you on your medication at all anymore?"

"No. It hasn't bothered me in a long time."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. I'm more focused on the present and the future. I don't have time to think about what happened before. So much has happened in the last month alone." John met her eyes, a small smirk came to his lips, "You're asking nearly the same questions Halsey did."

"Sorry," Renee grimaced, "I guess we just think along the same lines."

"When it comes to me, indeed. I don't know who cares more. It would be a close tie, I'd say," John eased himself back to lie on his bed.

"When are you going into cryo?"

"I'll be awake 'til the last call is made," John said, "In case they need me." He stared at the ceiling contemplatively for a few moments, before meeting her eyes again, "We've been through a hell of a lot in the last while. I want to thank you for kicking around. Your actions all along have been mostly understandable, the sober ones that is. Not that I can really blame the drunken ones either."

"Oh stop, if anything I've been a burden to you. And that party, well you know I regret that with all my heart, even if no real harm was done."

"That ODST understands where the line is. He's a noble man for not doing what most would've."

"I don't think Rookie cares for me much anymore."

"He does, I can tell. He's just cautious. Intimidated." John pointed to himself, "Of me. He doesn't want to do anything that could possibly provoke me. I can read into him like a book."

"None of it is his fault."

"Oh, I know that," John nodded, "You can tell Rookie to relax. I haven't killed ODSTs since I was fourteen, don't worry. I've got my own problems to worry about." He looked thoughtful again, "But I really wouldn't have any qualms if you wanted to leave me and find someone who's not a war-mongering psycho."

Renee wasn't sure if the last part was a joke or not, and for a moment didn't know what to say.

"I wouldn't abandon you, John."

John looked at her for a long while. Although his words were somewhat light-hearted, he could tell they affected her deeply. Letting out a sigh, he gestured towards the bed,

"Come here, lie down." It was barely audible when he said it.

She did, almost hesitantly at first, but when her head came to rest on his chest, she could feel there was no tension. He was relaxed, he was calm. For a moment, it took her a moment to realize the John she had felt was long gone, was there with her. She wasn't sure how long it would last, or when she would be so privileged to experience it again. Once they arrived at Sanghelios, everything would take a drastic turn. Death could possibly be waiting around every corner with a grav-hammer, and danger would be abundant. They would be in a foreign world, and fighting against enemies that knew no such thing as mercy. Overwhelmed with such possibilities, Renee seized the moment, not knowing when, or if, it could be repeated. Fingering his dog tags around his neck, she made one single request.

"Make love to me." It was barely a whisper.

John didn't object.

* * *

**State of Vadam – Yermo - Sanghelios – Triple Star System of Urs, Fied, Joori **

Rtas 'Vadum had rushed to the Vadam Keep when he heard the rumor on the streets. The humans were on the way, one Sangheili had said. Rtas knew his well-trusted friend and blood brother Thel 'Vadam could be the one to confirm the words that were now abuzz everywhere, spreading like a virus. Upon his arrival at the Keep, he had been seated by servants, informed that Thel had yet to return from the government building in the State of 'K'yaam. Thel's being there alone told Rtas that something indeed was going on, and made him grow more impatient. He refused the servants' offers of water and food, and drummed his long fingers on the arms of the hovering chair as he waited for Thel's return.

The conflicts between the Jiralhanae and the Sangheili were worsening. It was not uncommon now for ship-to-ship battles as well as ground conflicts on the ore planets. The fight had not yet found its way to Sanghelios, yet all the inhabitants were edgy with the possibility. Volunteers for the Sangheili army had tripled. Nearly all the government funding was now flowing into the defense and protection of the planet. The neighboring States, previously rivals, grew closer and worked as one. Kaidons met frequently to discuss ideas, hosted at various Keeps, or at the main government house in K'yaam's city of Horthos.

Whether or not the humans would come to their aid was a touchy yet well-discussed topic. Some were still against it, but as time went on and tensions grew higher and higher, more were being swayed into accepting the humans as allies. At this moment, Sanghelios had nothing to lose.

Rtas shot up from his chair when he saw the great doors to the Keep swing open and two familiar individuals enter the building, shadowed closely by two Sangheili guards in their unmistakable armor and long glimmering energy blades. The sight of Thel 'Vadam and Ikre 'Jyanam made Rtas' hopes soar. Thel was donning his unmistakable Arbitrary armor and Ikre was wearing light armor, draped in a long cloak that dragged along behind her. Rtas took note of the deactivated energy swords on each of their belts.

"Brother!" Thel called out, his voice ringing throughout the large purple and blue-hued room, "I trust you've heard the news."

"Rumors, brother, rumors," Rtas was antsy with excitement, and felt a little warm in his armor, "Tell me they are otherwise."

"Reality. They are coming, Rtas!" Ikre exclaimed, throwing her cloak back from her head, her yellow eyes gleaming, "A month ago I would've never thought it, but the humans are coming to help us!"

Rtas looked to Thel in amazement, who laughed deeply.

"She doesn't lie, I assure you." Thel clapped Rtas on the shoulder, "Come! We'll be seated, have a drink, and I will tell you everything."

Rtas couldn't wait; he was asking questions as they walked towards the meeting room, keeping in stride with Ikre and Thel.

"Lord Hood informed us this morning that his fleet just left Earth and should arrive within two Human months." Thel explained, "I responded gratefully, and since I do not know the time conversion of their days to ours, I just told him, let us know when you see our planet."

The three of them chuckled at this.

"Large and blood red, can't miss it!" Ikre added cheerily, "This shall be interesting. I haven't met Humans before. I've seen pictures; they are such odd little things! I know a little of their mother tongue."

"English?" Rtas questioned.

"Yes, that's the one. They have hundreds of languages, I've heard! How strange!"

"They are noble creatures," Thel explained, "Honorable in battle, usually. Persistent. They tend to keep fighting even when they know the battle is lost. Fairly intelligent, with fast-growing technology. Not nearly as adept space travel or weaponry, but their ships do withstand quite a lot. I have faith they will be an excellent ally."

"Are they themselves strong?" Ikre was beating Rtas as far as questions went. They arrived at the meeting room and were quickly seated at the large oblong table with the floating holographic screen.

"Physically, not compared to us," Rtas told her, "Although there are a certain group of them…"

"Spartans," Thel finished.

"Oh yes, the Demon's kind. That's what they used to call him. I heard rumors he isn't actually a human, but a robot in incredibly strong armor. An old veteran preached about him during one Keep meeting in 'Jyanam," Ikre was intrigued, "He said that he witnessed one of these Demons tear the arm right off one of our soldiers and run him through with his own energy sword."

"Humans call him Master Chief," Thel said, "I am informed that he is alive and travelling with the fleet here to Sanghelios. I am indebted to him as he is to me. We fought alongside and crushed the vermin that were the Prophets and their idea of the Great Journey."

"He _is _alive, you say," Rtas was dumbfounded, but was quickly overtaken with laughter, "Well, my brother and sister, we haven't a thing to worry about if he is fighting on our side! You can say we have won already, but just haven't fought the battle yet!"

"The Brutes will cower when they see him," Thel agreed.

"Is he _that _amazing?" Ikre didn't seem ready to believe it, "I must meet this human!"

"I'll personally introduce you," Thel promised. He glanced over his shoulder to one of the servants, "Bring us food and drink! We have an occasion to celebrate!"

* * *

When Renee awoke, she was momentarily disoriented. It had been a while since she had woken up to find herself in a man's arms. John was fast asleep beside her. Neither of them were wearing clothes. They were tangled together with a blanket was draped over them. Rubbing at her eyes as she sat up, Renee realized she must've slept for a while, perhaps a full night. Guilt suddenly came bearing down on her, and she was motivated to get out of bed and get her clothes. They were discarded in random disarray on the floor, and John woke up while she was still gathering them.

"Shit, we slept," was the first thing from John's mouth.

"We did," Renee answered, pulling on her underwear.

"Do you have the time?" he asked as he reached down to swipe his boxers from the floor.

"No."

"Damn."

The next couple of minutes involved them getting quickly dressed in silence. It wasn't hard to tell there was a lot on the couple's minds as they did so. John quickly checked the door to make sure it was locked. It wouldn't be a good time for anyone to come knocking. His fellow Spartans were known to barge right in. His mind was still hazy, but his memory from the night before was clear. He didn't regret anything, it had been satisfying for both of them and in a way, got some stress off his mind. He pulled his shirt over his head, finishing dressing, and watched Renee as she was testing her one-leg balance, pulling on her combat shoes. The loose shoelaces posed a tangled threat that looked ready to trip her at any second. However, she got them on successfully and dropped to one knee to tie them.

"When was the last time…?" John started, knowing he didn't have to finish the sentence.

"I can't remember."

"It was good."

"I agree."

John couldn't help as a smirk escaped onto his features. Here they were talking so business-like about such a personal act. It was highly comical. Renee wasn't even blushing. He realized that both of them had been highly deprived.

"I have to be heading back," Renee straightened, meeting his eyes.

"Yes."

"I don't know whether to thank you, salute you, or kiss you," She admitted.

"Remember where we are," John raised a brow, at the same time, lifting his hand to it in a quick salute, in which she returned. The smile she was trying to hold back was finding its way onto her lips.

"Thank you, sir."

"No, thank you, Sergeant."

"I'll see you around," Renee looked faintly flustered now, and she had the door unlocked and she was gone in less than a second. John poked his head out of the doorway, watching her scuttle down the hall and disappear around a corner. When he looked the other way, he spotted Frederic, who looked to be coming back from the showers. He was at his own door, a towel thrown over his shoulder, wearing trousers and boots. The two Spartans made eye contact.

"Ahh," Frederic grinned with a shake of his head, "John, John, John."

"Morning," John gave a nod, a smirk crawling out on his lips.

"Shame on you." He teased, before entering his room.

* * *

When Renee arrived back to her room, she was praying for it to be empty. The ODSTs would've no doubt noticed her absence. However, when she punched in the code and the door hissed open, the whole crew was there. They immediately looked to the door, and then the ruckus started.

"Ouuuu!" Mickey cajoled from his bunk. Romeo, who was digging in his locker, let out a loud whistle.

"She has returned!" Buck announced the obvious.

"Damn, Lil Sarge, must've been a tough talk if it lasted all night," Dutch winked at her. Mickey had to muffle his laughter into his pillow. Rookie, who looked to be getting his things ready for a shower, shook his head, most likely at his fellow ODSTs' behavior.

"What a warm welcome," Renee said, trying to keep a straight face as she made her way over to her locker, "You guys make me feel all fuzzy inside."

"I take it things went well," Buck hypothesized.

"They did, yes." Renee sat down on her bed. Above her, she heard Mickey still snickering. Craning her neck to look up at him, "You're a perv, Crespo."

"Oh come on, Lil Sarge, gimme a break," He replied in defense, "I'm allowed to laugh, ain't I?"

Renee sighed, and looked to Buck, shaking her head.

"Got things all sorted out," she continued to tell him, "It's complex, something in John's head, but he promised he'd smarten up from here on out. Turns out Halsey got to him before I did. So I didn't really need to lecture as much as I had been planning. She took care of that, he said."

"So you provided comfort instead," Dutch guessed.

Renee didn't even look his way, pretending she didn't hear him.

"Well that's good to hear," Buck shrugged, "We all gotta rely on Chief once we get to Sanghelios. We can't afford to have him pull something crazy. If he faints on the battlefield, no one but his Spartans could do anything. Even then, when plasma's flying through the air, you can't be taking blind risks."

"He understands that, I'm certain. In his situation, he's just stressed all to hell. You can read it on his face and hear it in his voice. Even his body language portrays it," Renee explained, "He was relieved when I arrived. We said little, but he was glad I was there."

"I'd imagine," Dutch commented.

"Dutch," Buck shot him a look, "Lay off, alright?"

"Ah, we're just giving her the same teasing we give you when you come back from Veronica's," He laughed, "Lil Sarge isn't thin-skinned. She'd tell me off if I was going too far."

"You're getting close," Renee grinned, "But yes, I was tired, I fell asleep. I never knew you'd all miss me so much. I'm flattered, really."

"You're welcome," Mickey laughed.

"So what's the deal, how many people have headed to the iceboxes?" Renee asked.

"Quite a few from what I can gather," Romeo answered, "We'll probably be joining 'em soon. It's getting boring already."

Renee nodded in agreement.

"I'll go when you guys go," she said, looking thoughtful, "Two months will be my longest time in cryo sleep."

"Best sleep you can have, unless you wake up with freezer burn," Mickey answered, "That's why I skip on clothes. Not the risk, I had the worst case of it when I just got out of training. Not in the best places, either, if you get my drift."

Renee grimaced, "Oh Lord!"

"Yeah, don't do clothes."

"I usually don't either," she replied, looking thoughtful. She knew, even two months in cryo wouldn't help her prepare for what was ahead. A deep sleep was relaxing, and you aged none, however when she woke up she wouldn't be any more ready for stepping off the ship onto Sanghelios. In fact, she'd be minutes away from doing so and probably be tempted to throw up. It wasn't the battle she feared. It wasn't that she was going to be fighting Brutes, the species of Covenant that she hadn't been up against before. Bring it, was her attitude towards that. What possibly scared her the most was having to face Elites for the first time since the incident that left her in a coma and Lieutenant Fisher dead. Although it had been almost twenty years ago, the memories of that fateful day were as vivid as watching a film. She couldn't forget that huge Elite, in deathly black armor, with its piercing yellow eyes. Those eyes that wanted nothing more than to watch her suffer and die. She remembered its rattling breaths the first time she had run into it in the hallway aboard the _Hercules. _How it had seemed to take up the entire space, its chest heaving and saliva pooling from its mandibles. It was like something from a nightmare. It had stolen her childhood friend from her and had sent her into a coma that wasted eighteen years of her life.

She now had to accept creatures exactly like that one to be allies. To associate with them, to fight alongside them. John had said it would be easier for her if she could just forget the past. Of all people, she knew how meaningless such a phrase was to him. He was still haunted by the deaths of his Spartans.

Renee just prayed that when she met her first Elite face-to-face, that John would be beside her.

**A/N: **Up quicker than you (and I) anticipated! Got to love inspiration! Enjoy - AB


	40. Certainly Not Home

**Chapter 40 – Certainly Not Home**

**December 17****th****, 2553 **

**State of Kyaam - Yermo - Sanghelios – Triple Star System of Urs, Fied, Joori**

Upon arrival at Sanghelios, John-117, Lord Hood, Dr. Halsey, Captain Dare and Renee were the only members of the crew to leave the _Bridgetown._ They each represented the group they belonged to. John of course represented the Spartans. Lord Hood represented the top brass and the UNSC itself. Dr. Halsey represented the civilian scientists. Captain Dare represented the ODSTs. To her own surprise, Renee had been chosen to represent the Marine Corps. She hadn't been expecting to be called to the bridge fresh out of the freezer. Her skin still had been fairly cold to the touch when she scrambled into her uniform and made her way to the bridge. The company she had found herself in was surprising, and she could only stammer "Sir" in response when Lord Hood informed her she had been chosen to accompany them to the surface for the first initial meeting. A part of her had wanted to ask sarcastically what idiot made that mistake, but she knew better. Way better. After the initial shock of it all, reality started to hit her in regards to what a huge responsibility she had been handed. She was representing the whole Marine Corps. A measly Sergeant who hadn't seen battle since 2535, who only had a couple of rare occasions to lead personnel, fallen into a coma for eighteen years and was just recently doubting her devotion to the UNSC. Not to mention she had no idea how she would react when she saw Elites again.

They had picked her?

Why? She knew she couldn't ask. There was no time. John, who was wearing his armor, helmet included, could provide no clues. Her stomach was fairly uneasy as she accompanied the group to the docking bay.

They were taken by Pelican to the surface towards the government building they'd been given coordinates of. Entering atmosphere was rocky, and the temperature of the Pelican's compartment soared. The whole time Renee didn't say a word. She sat buckled into her seat, not moving. John, of course stood. The others sat. Aside from entry noise, the compartment was silent. Renee was trying her best to appear cool and composed. She would look to John in his armor, seeing him there provided some comfort. Her heart leaped into her throat when she heard the sound of the back hatch beginning to open, and they were treated with a rush of sticky humid air.

Sanghelios was almost surreal to the human eye. The skies were not blue, but red. Clouds of a reddish-orange nature were speckled across the sky. Three suns, sporadically placed as if at random, shone down on the Sangheili city of Horthos. The architecture strongly mirrored that of Covenant technology, tall spiked structures with complex designs and dotted with glowing windows. As they grew nearer, they could see they were the purple and pink hues so commonly seen on Covenant ships. Sangheili vehicles, hovering bulbous things, sped in organized trails in-between the buildings, leaving behind the blueish hues that Ghosts and Banshees produced. Public transport, perhaps? There were roads, but with closer inspection, they were for walking only. A red river snaked its way through the city, ending dramatically in a huge waterfall that flowed two hundred feet down into a large lagoon. That end of the city looked to be perched precariously on the cliff-side. Vegetation beyond the city was abundant, strange species of plant that resembled only faintly ones on Earth. In the distance, large black mountains, jagged as the city's skyline, could be seen towering almost menacingly. Beyond them, was a red ocean, which seemed to span on forever.

Sanghelios truly was an alien world. It also was hot. Terribly hot, upwards of 85 degrees Fahrenheit. Sanghelios seemed to be a divide of lush tropical forests, harsh mountain lines, deserts and oceans. From orbit it looked like a fiery ball of hell, much like Earth's sister planets, Venus or Mercury.

` It was almost too much to take in at once. Renee realized she'd been holding her breath, and sucked in a couple gasps of air.

"Would you look at that," Lord Hood said calmly.

"Amazing," Dr. Halsey was fascinated.

John, who had taken a couple steps daringly forward, perched himself on the edge, looking around calmly. He wasn't fazed by what he saw; in fact he thought Sanghelios' appearance rather suited the Elites. He felt his suit adjust temperatures accordingly to cool him down. This place was like a sauna. He glanced back over his shoulder slightly to Renee, and realized this quite possibly could be the strangest world she had ever seen. The expression on her face confirmed it, her eyes were wide, but her mouth was rather taught and her face looked pale. Overwhelming for her indeed.

He was the one who suggested to Lord Hood that she be the representative of the Marine Corps. Lord Hood agreed almost immediately, satisfied with Renee's experiences in 2535 and her involvement since with the retrieval mission and overall performance. John guessed that Hood would've reconsidered if he had known about Renee's indecisive behavior and drop in morale. However, John wasn't about to tell him. He knew she was more than capable and this would be a good way to give her first shot at large responsibility – not on a battlefield. This test would determine on how he would request her services in actual conflict, and where he would place her. A meeting and discussion with John's old companion the Arbiter. Until a while ago, Arbiter had probably thought him dead.

The Pelican was nearing the ground, and they spotted what must be the government building. A large tower in the same architecture the entire city seemed to have adopted, colored a deep purple and black. Severe spires adorned the top of the tower. Lightning rods? Radio towers? It was anyone's guess.

They could see a landing pad adorned with purple landing-lights, and on it, several figures – Elites, waiting for them.

When Renee saw the figures, growing larger as the Pelican prepared to land, she felt almost lightheaded. The mugginess of the air didn't help. The Elites' unmistakable bodies began to take shape. Tall, muscular. Large powerful legs and long arms. Long reptilian necks and faces. Armor that hadn't changed. Some were carrying what looked to be energy swords, except on the ends of large staffs, and had elaborate helmets. Guards?

Noticing their weapons, Renee looked down to the simple M6D pistol on her utility belt, realizing they weren't much protection. They hadn't been given any extra clips. They were only weapons they had brought along. John, however, had been permitted to take a battle rifle, which was hanging magnetically on his back.

There was a thud as the Pelican landed, and Renee almost had to pinch herself, as she caught glimpses of the Elites, clearer now and very real. Her hands fumbled to undo the seatbelt and she forced herself to get to her feet. Lord Hood and Dr. Halsey exited the Pelican first, followed by Dare, John, and Renee.

John took in the scene. Four Elite honor guards stood on either side of them, unmoving and silent. Directly ahead, stood four Elites. Two of which he recognized: the Arbiter, and the Ship Master Rtas 'Vadum. The other two he didn't know, both were wearing armor, although it wasn't heavy battle armor he was used to seeing. The furthest Elite to the right, standing beside Rtas 'Vadum, was a foot shorter than the others and looked daintier. Was she a female?

Renee stopped and watched the scene unfold before her. Her legs felt weak, her heart was pounding in her chest. She glanced to one of the guards standing off to the side. It avoided eye-contact, standing absolutely still and staring off into space as if it were stone. The fear that was ebbing though her at the moment was overwhelming, but she forced herself to try to keep calm. She kept trying to tell herself that they were allies now and that they wouldn't hurt her. It did little to help. She looked ahead, and saw who she recognized to be the Arbiter step forward, his feet clicking on the floor. He extended an alien hand to Lord Hood. When he spoke, his voice was deep. A tone of gratefulness was present.

"Hello again, Admiral," Arbiter said. They shook hands firmly, "I welcome you to Sanghelios. Please, call me Thel 'Vadam. You knew me only as the Arbiter previously, but we will be working closely the next while as friends and allies."

"Thel 'Vadam," Hood tested it out, "It's a pleasure to be here. We are glad you were able to call upon us as allies."

"Yes, indeed," Thel nodded, "We will have plenty of time to discuss such matters. Here it is late, and you have had a long travel. I have arranged dinner for us. You may try our food and drink, but are more than welcome to have some of your food prepared and brought from the ship."

"Sounds great," Lord Hood smiled.

"First, I would like to introduce you," he gestured to the Sangheili next to him, "You know Ship Master Rtas 'Vadum," he waited while they exchanged a couple of words and shook hands, "Kaidon of 'Kyaam state and government representative, Hyot 'Kyaam. And Kaidon of 'Jyanam state, Ikre Jyanam," Thel paused while the others shook hands with Lord Hood, "And in your group, I only recognize one."

John stepped forward as if on cue, and extended his hand, which Thel happily shook.

"I thought you were dead," Thel chuckled, reaching up and placing a firm hand on the Spartan's shoulder plate.

"Not yet," John answered with comically cynical tone.

Thel looked to the others rather eagerly, eying them up with interest. Humans that Lord Hood thought important enough to bring with him to the initial meeting.

"Do me the honors of introducing your fellow humans," Thel said.

Lord Hood obliged, and began to proceed with the introductions, starting with Dr. Halsey, explaining she was a civilian doctor but the mother of the Spartan program. Thel was noticeably interested in this information. Dr. Halsey was formal and composed as she spoke and shook his hand.

Renee, realizing she would be expected to do the same with this Arbiter, felt almost nauseous and suddenly doubted herself. She was doing as fine as she could, standing there and tolerating being just feet away from the same kind that had killed Troy and almost her. She could handle that – despite the weakness she felt in her knees and the uneasiness in her stomach. However, she felt almost cheated that no one had informed her that she would be expected to interact in such a way with them. At the same time, a voice in her head told her that what else was she to expect? The Elites were allies now, of course she would be expected to interact with them. Shooting them down with a glare or a weapon – the latter sounded quite tempting – wasn't accepted anymore, not with the alliance in place. Renee momentarily realized how satisfying it would be to shoot one of the Elites in the back, delivering it a fatal wound – just like that Elite had done to Troy. Then, to another Elite, she would spray it with almost half a clip from an assault rifle and watch it go comatose from its wounds before dying. What sweet revenge it would be, she could claim revenge for both herself and for Troy. Revenge she surely would've gotten if she hadn't fallen into the coma. But she was too late; it was too late for actions of any sort.

The amount of time it took for the Arbiter to meet Halsey and Dare passed way too quickly. Renee was torn from her thoughts, because before she knew it, she heard Lord Hood introducing her.

"This is Sergeant Renee Kilburn, representing the Marine Corps."

Renee looked up at the Arbiter, who had come to stand in front of her. She was almost immediately perplexed. He was wearing the armor she'd seen him wear in the memorial video that had aired on television after the war's end. His yellow eyes were reptilian looking, his mandibles insect-like, they moved abnormally as he spoke English,

"Hello Sergeant."

He extended his long-fingered hand out to her. With a subtle deep breath, Renee reached out and numbly took it. His hand was leathery feeling and warm. She was shaking hands with an Elite. Her lips barely moved as she said hello back as she forced a faint smile onto her face. She felt like she was betraying herself, like she was shaking hands with him and saying "I'd like to thank your kind for murdering my best friend and sending me into a coma for eighteen years. I really appreciated it." She felt very light headed. A part of her wanted to pull up her shirt and show the scars spanning her torso and scream that it was his kind that did it to her. She wanted to show him a picture of Troy and scream that it one of his kind that stole him from her and Amy. She watched him as he walked back to Lord Hood where they continued talking. She didn't hear a word they said; she was so overwhelmed with emotions. She was frustrated; she was upset; she was frightened; she was a million other things. Renee looked to the other Elites ahead, the guards to the side, with their strange, ugly reptilian faces with insect jaws and leathery skin.

Oh Lord, she thought, she wanted out of this situation ASAP.

She was slowly feeling the wrong kind of emotions building up inside her. Anger always came first, but what followed, was more dramatic and common with her gender. A lump was rising in her throat. Every negative memory from that day on Hydra in 2535 was coming back to haunt her in vivid detail. She knew under the questioning eye of anyone here she would just crumble. Her self-control was leaving her fast. In her mind, she was apologizing to Lord Hood, to John, to Halsey, to Dare. They had picked the wrong person for this event, they had underestimated her ability, and/or simply forgot it was an Elite that put her into a coma.

Her hands, that were clenched by her sides, were uncontrollably trembling. The shaking seemed to spread to her whole body. Her uniform felt suddenly suffocating. She could feel her hair becoming soaked with perspiration and her throat seemed to tighten with each breath.

Dr. Halsey happened to glance in Renee's direction. Her condition was obviously noticeable, for she said lowly, "Sergeant Kilburn, are you alright?"

However discreet she intended it to be, everyone heard it, Elites included, and looked to Halsey first, then to Renee. Renee, who by now, had taken to hugging herself, and was fully trembling, shook her head. She clenched her eyes shut, and felt two tears squeeze from her eyes and roll down her cheeks. She kept shaking her head, until finally, she was able to choke out the word "No." It was almost a sob. Aside from that, she made no noise, she was pale and trembling.

Dr. Halsey approached her quickly, encircling an arm around her shoulders. No one asked questions, or waited for a diagnosis. Renee's condition wasn't really a mystery, especially to John, who was watching in silence as Halsey led her back towards the Pelican. John felt almost sick himself. He recognized the signs of her condition, having seen it hundreds of times in marines on the battle field. Christ's sake, she was having a panic attack.

He instantly regretted taking her here.

Halsey, who had seated Renee in one of the seats of the Pelican, quickly assessed her condition and shouted to Lord Hood, "She needs to get her back to the _Bridgetown_ right now!"

Lord Hood, who looked rather grim himself, gave a nod.

There was silence as they watched the back hatch close on the Pelican and it took off back towards the ship. Even the Honor guards had turned to watch the scene, no doubt in wonder what had just happened.

"What happened to the girl?" Rtas 'Vadum asked.

"Panic attack," John said, his throat feeling dry. To Lord Hood, "I'm sorry, sir. It was a bad decision of me to suggest that she..."

"Nonsense, John," Lord Hood replied, "You had no way of knowing this would happen. Probably neither did Sergeant Kilburn."

"Will she be alright?" Thel sounded concerned.

"Yes. She is in good hands," Hood assured him.

"Was she frightened of Thel?" Ikre spoke up, "I noticed she looked intimidated."

"She had a bad experience with your species during the war," John explained, "Our team was ambushed by a spec-ops Elite. It killed a Lieutenant, who was also her best friend. She watched him die. Before I could do anything, the Elite also shot her. She almost died from her wounds. Not good memories to have."

"Oh dear," Dare remarked.

"How awful," Ikre said quietly.

"The burdens that even an alliance can't get rid of," Thel said grimly, "Her story accompanies millions more just like it, of my species and yours." He paused, "Do send my deepest apologies to her, and my regret that she could not attend our dinner. As well, express that I do hope she will be well enough to attend further meetings."

"Most certainly," Lord Hood nodded.

"So," Thel paused again thoughtfully, "Come inside. We have a lot to discuss."

* * *

Renee's condition had reached its peak when she had still been on Sanghelios. Dr. Halsey was relieved that once she had gotten her into the Pelican that her shaking slowed and she started to come back around to normalcy. It was hard to predict panic attacks and how they would work. For each person, they were different. They could last anywhere from ten minutes to a few hours, the peak of panic being uncontrollable shaking, hyperventilation, increased heart palpitations, sweating and dizziness.

"Everything's going to be alright, Sergeant," Dr. Halsey was telling her. She had instructed her to take deep breaths, and her condition was improving. However, she was still noticeably weak, "Have you ever had a panic attack before?"

Renee subtly shook her head. She was in a state of disbelief. She hadn't been able to control the way her body reacted, and now that she was starting to recover from it, she realized how she must have looked to everyone present. She knew that she probably wouldn't be chosen for anything again, she wasn't reliable. They wouldn't want someone who would have panic attacks when they were in the presence of Elites.

"The Elites, am I correct?" Halsey hypothesized, "Have you seen one since your incident on Hydra?" the Doctor remembered the girl's condition on that day, she had looked like Swiss cheese, in an almost irreversible state of shock and quickly losing blood from her countless wounds.

"No," Renee whispered.

"Well then, do not blame yourself for your reaction. No one else will, either."

"I let them all down."

"No you didn't, Sergeant. You had no way of knowing it would happen."

"A part of me wants to go back, but I don't know if I could. They just strike fear into me, Doctor. Seeing them just takes me back to that day."

"That situation was the worst that you will experience, I promise. It will become easier. You have to keep reminding yourself that, even though they are Elites, it doesn't mean they're that one that ambushed your team. They are truly peaceful now, Sergeant. Even I was somewhat intimidated meeting them."

"Is there anything you can give me?" Renee demanded, "I do want to be able to be like everyone else and be able to deal with them."

"This is quite coincidental," Dr. Halsey noted, pausing for a moment, "I didn't want to mention it unless you requested it. There is a drug I can prescribe to you that will help you. You'd be quite familiar with it. Your reaction, your panic attack right now, was because of events that happened to you in the past. They could be classified as minor to moderate symptoms of post-traumatic stress disorder."

Renee felt a slight chill run down her spine. The same thing John had been diagnosed with.

"I have PTSD?" Renee asked.

"You're haunted by a traumatic event that happened to you on the battlefield. I'm guessing that the memories can be rather vivid and sometimes affect you quite emotionally – and as of recently, are enough to cause your body to have a panic attack, when exposed to a strong reminder of the event."

"I would've never guessed that's what it was."

"Many soldiers suffering from PTSD don't acknowledge the signs, or if they do, don't think to try to seek medical help. You might've even been too focused on John and his condition to stop and realize you had problems of your own. You're not alone, Sergeant."

"What do I do?"

"I can prescribe you the drug – and if you do not suffer from severe side-effects, you can continue using it for as long as it seems adequate. I know that John has stopped taking his, but mind you, he's a Spartan. These drugs are powerful and if they work well with your body, you will see improvement almost immediately. You may decide that you may wish to continue taking them for the rest of your life. A good way to test their effects would be to rejoin Lord Hood, John, Captain Dare and myself in the talks that will probably continue over the next few days."

Renee nodded contemplatively.

"I will explain the situation to them," Dr. Halsey continued, "I'm guessing that John already has explained at least some – the information that he knows. It will be news to him that you have the same condition that he does, but if anything that will invoke sympathy. He will understand it on a personal level." She paused for a moment, "I will be heading back to the meeting after you are dropped off. You seem to be fine now. I just recommend grabbing something to eat and drink, and taking it easy. Panic attacks, as you can no doubt feel, are exhausting in nature. And here," Halsey dug in her pocket and pulled out a notebook and pen. She flipped to a new page, and scribbled something down quickly, and signed it. Tearing the page out and handing it to Renee, she continued, "You give this to any doctor in the medical bay, tell them it is from me. It is a doctor's note saying I want you to be prescribed SSRI's. If they want formal paper work, tell them I'll have it to them by tomorrow."

"Yes, ma'am," Renee replied. She paused thoughtfully, mulling over what had happened in the last ten minutes and gazing at the paper in her hand, "Thank you."

* * *

Back on the _Bridgetown_, Renee went and returned her armor, helmet and weapon to the ammunitions bay. Keeping her pace relatively slow, she then made her way to the medical bay, where received her pills with little difficulty. The doctor seemed to be satisfied with Halsey's chicken-scratch note and went to prepare the drugs. Renee had them in her hand in five minutes. Almost in a fog, she left the med bay.

She paused to stand just outside the doors and examined the pill bottle in her hand. Her rank and surname, along with service number was printed on the label. Underneath was the drug name, amount of pills and mgs that each pill contained. Would they really help? She had no way to be sure until she tried. She had watched John struggle with taking the same pills, and now she was going to be experiencing the same thing. The fact that she had had the same condition as John and not even realized it, even after all this time, was what really baffled her. Maybe Halsey had been right, she _had _been too busy caring about John to really notice.

Renee decided that she wouldn't tell anyone about her diagnosis. Her panic attack, however, couldn't be kept in the dark. The ODSTs would wonder why she was back so quickly. She didn't have the heart to lie to them that the sight of Elites had scared the shit out of her and she hadn't been able to continue the talks – as humiliating as it would be to explain. She did, however, have it in her to keep Dr. Halsey's diagnosis about her PTSD to herself – for now.

Unscrewing the cap and dumping a pill into her palm, Renee tossed it down her throat and swallowed. Then, almost frantically, she put the bottle in her uniform breast pocket. It was her secret for the time being.

Her next stop was the cafeteria, where she grabbed a bottle of water and a couple energy bars from the food dispenser machines. Then, she made her way back to her room.

She could hear no voices from within, and she let out a sigh of relief. The ODSTs must be out, to the gym, maybe – or even perhaps still thawing out from the freezers. Hitting the buzzer and entering, Renee made a b-line for her bed, fumbling into her pocket for the bottle of pills so she could hide them in her toiletry bag in her locker. She had the pills out and in her hand when she glanced to her left, realizing she wasn't alone. Rookie was lying on his bed, hands folded behind his head. She hadn't even noticed him, but he clearly noticed her. She felt almost like a kid caught with their hand in the cookie jar.

"Rookie," She breathed, "I didn't even notice you!"

"You're back early," he said quietly.

Renee nodded, and remembered her hand was frozen in mid-air, she lunged to toss the pills into her bag, hoping he wouldn't mention it, but he did.

"A prescription," Couldn't fool him. He sat up, looking somewhat concerned, "… Sergeant. What happened out there?"

Renee, in a sudden need to expel the heaviness in her chest, held the pills out to him in silence. Rookie, carefully noting the situation, slowly stood, and crossed the room in a couple of steps. He hesitated, eyeing her almost worriedly, before taking the bottle from her hand and reading the label.

There was dead silence that seemed to last a lifetime. Renee watched his expression change slightly as he clearly recognized the drugs. His mouth went taught, his eyebrows scrunched, and he continued to stare at the label although he had read it seconds ago. When he finally met her eyes, his expression was highly sympathetic.

"I'm sorry you have to have it too," it was almost a whisper. He handed the bottle back to her, which she took almost numbly, "… I suspected it of you… but I guess that confirms it."

Renee was immediately confused.

"It was that noticeable?" She demanded, "Why didn't you say…"

Rookie held up his hand, signalling her to be silent.

"The night you had the party at your house," he began, "You did more than just try to drag me to bed." He watched Renee's face whiten at the mention of that event, "It's clear you don't remember, but I do. You took me upstairs, and there was this picture on the dresser in your bedroom. You seemed taken with it, eager at first, to show me. 2535, I think it was from? It's the one with you, Master Chief, your friend Amy, and a Lieutenant. You said a lot, but you mentioned that Lieutenant. Then you started to cry. You told me what happened on that planet, the battle for Hydra. You were almost to the point of hysteria. I'm sure what you drank heightened your emotions, but it was pretty damn clear that event haunted you. Tormented you even." Rookie watched Renee as she nodded numbly, "The initial reason you wanted your dress off was because you wanted to show me the scars from that day. It went from sadness, to fright, then you longed for some sort of comfort, I think. You never really wanted anything intimate with me. You were upset, and at this point had taken your dress off. You were drunk and just wanted comfort. 'Hold me,' you had said. That's all you said. I convinced you otherwise, tucked you into bed and that was that." He could see the bafflement creeping up on Renee's face, so he continued, "I never said anything because I figured you wouldn't want to talk about it. I told you nothing happened and nothing did… in the regard your friend Amy and probably John initially suspected. I didn't think a time would come about that what else went on would be a concern. But they make sense now, your actions."

"I never did apologize to you for what happened…" she started.

"And you didn't need to," he answered.

Renee's eyes were starting to fill with tears. In one day so much shit that had previously plagued her was now becoming clear. Without a second thought, she hugged him tightly. He stiffened at the gesture, but seconds passed and he slowly reached up to rub her back.

"I have PTSD, Rookie," she muttered into his shoulder, clearly still surprised by it, "I froze up down there, I had a panic attack…those Elites, just seeing them took me back to that day…"

"At least you know now," he said, "And you've gotten help."

She nodded, and felt a tear slip down her cheek. Stepping back from the hug, she wiped at her face.

"I'm sure you don't want me blubbering all over your uniform," she tried to smile, but it came out looking forced, "Don't tell the others about it, please."

"I won't, I promise." Rookie said.

"No hard feelings?"

"There never were, Sergeant," He gave her a quick smile, and she returned it. Renee sat down on her bunk, and took one of the energy bars from her pocket. He made a point to mention one more thing, "If one person deserves to know the truth, it's John."

Renee chewed on her lip thoughtfully, but she nodded.

"He has PTSD too," she sighed, "He wouldn't admit to it, but he was taking the same pills I am now. Apparently it no longer bothers him, lucky Spartan, hm?"

"It still does, I can see it on his face," Rookie declared.

"You can't see much on that face of his," Renee shook her head, taking a bite of her energy bar, "He's almost always got that _same _expression."

"It shines through on occasion," Rookie leaned on the bunk bed, "When you have PTSD long enough yourself it takes nothing to pick traces of it out in other people. For you, it took alcohol to bring it out in you clearly enough to suspect, but with John you can tell there's a lot of shit wearing that man down." He paused, and realized that Renee didn't have anything to say aside from nodding her head slowly, "What is Sanghelios like?"

"Hot, humid, red, and crawling with split-chins," Renee answered truthfully with a shrug, "Which everyone aboard will soon be so fortunate to experience."

At that moment the door to the room opened and in came Buck, Mickey, Romeo and Dutch. They were giddy from some manly jaunt to the gym and had clearly taken a shower before coming back to the room. Almost instantly, they spotted Renee as they dispersed to rummage in their lockers.

"Back so soon?" Mickey seemed surprised, speaking first.

"I guess that talk wasn't as long as they expected," Buck hypothesized, "Veronica mentioned that she figured it be for a few hours at least."

"I'm back, no one else is," Renee said.

"What's going on?" Dutch demanded.

"Are you okay? You look a little tired, Lil Sarge," Buck noticed.

"Dr. Halsey sent me back," Renee explained, "I was just explaining to Rookie that my run-in with the Elites didn't go very well."

"Oh no, ya didn't try to kill one of them things, did ya?" Romeo sounded like he honestly believed it would be something she would attempt.

"No – they had the upper hand on me. It was the first time I ever experienced a feeling like that in my life. I met the Arbiter, shook his hand. The idea of the Elites made me uncomfortable, but after meeting the Arbiter… this strange feeling came over me. Emotion and adrenaline and … I started shaking; I was terrified…" Renee glanced down at the floor, unable to meet any of their eyes as she explained this embarrassing tale, "Next thing I knew Dr. Halsey had me back in the Pelican heading back here. She informed me that I experienced a panic attack."

There was a few seconds silence as the ODSTs assessed the information they'd been told. Buck spoke first, and really, spoke for them all.

"Hell, that's awful Lil Sarge," he said, "They're not uncommon, panic attacks. And this is was the first time since earlier in the war you saw an Elite, you said? They would've been enemies then. Well don't blame yourself; you obviously couldn't have helped it. I'm sure no one there blamed you, either."

"That's the frustrating part, that I wasn't able to help it! I sure as hell wanted to make a good impression, as scared as I was! Yet I set an awful example for the Marine Corps, melting down into a shivering, incomprehensive twit at the sight of the very creatures I slaughtered twenty years ago!"

"Hey," Mickey snapped, "Lil Sarge, things like that happen. I know they aren't pleasant and sure leave you feeling humiliated, but like Buck said, nobody is gonna blame you. I bet John was probably secretly shitting in his suit worried about you."

"I'm going back out there," Renee stated, "Not today, no. I need to rest, but tomorrow, I'm going back out there and I'll force myself to give the Arbiter a hug if I damn well have to to prove that they don't scare me… they do scare me… but I need to get over it, I know, it's just not gonna be easy."

"Well you know we're all here for you," Dutch said as he climbed into his bunk, "You might as well be an ODST, that's how much we love ya."

The others muttered agreement and nodded at this.

"Thanks, guys. It means a lot to hear that," Renee said, taking off her boots and her socks, "Man, here I thought it'd be an eventful day. Aside from getting a glimpse at Sanghelios and a scare from Elites, I'm now kicking back in bed…"

"Don't complain!" Buck said, "We all feel sluggish after cryo anyway. There'll be at least another day until us troops get orders. Veronica said everything needs to be sorted out one hundred percent with Arbiter and Lord Hood until anything can really get a move on – unless the Brutes decide to attack in a sudden fit of rage… they'll be thrilled to know we've shown up, I bet."

"Sleeping and lazing around is nothing new for you, is it, Rookie?" Romeo laughed, looking to him as he was once again making himself comfortable in his bunk. He shook his head.

"Have you eaten?" Mickey looked down to Renee, "Aside from that bar."

"No."

"Let's all head to the cafeteria and see what they got on for grub in about a half hour or so. That workout has my body crying for some calories."

"Sounds good to me!" Buck replied.

Rookie signalled a thumbs-up from his bunk. No one would turn down food.

Renee was slowly calming down again. The experience on Sanghelios was still vivid in her mind, but she found herself not being as bothered by the thought of it. Maybe it was exhaustion, or it could be the drugs starting to kick in. Either way, she felt relaxed at the moment, almost as if she wasn't deployed on a mission, but instead lying on the couch at home in front of the TV. She wondered how the meeting was going - most likely, fairly well. Arbiter had mentioned that dinner, too. She tried to imagine what strange food Elites ate, but couldn't. She would have to ask John when he returned – if he wasn't too tired.

She knew that John was probably silently worrying his way through the meeting. No doubt her panic attack had upset him. He wouldn't show it, though – and behind that mirrored visor of his no one had a clue what expression he was portraying. John, she figured, probably wouldn't eat at the dinner. That would involve removing his helmet and exposing his face on an alien planet and a potentially unsafe environment – something she knew he wouldn't do if someone held a gun to his head. John probably wouldn't say much, either. Out of those present, Renee imagined that Lord Hood and Dr. Halsey would do most of the talking on the human side. As for the Elites, it would be that Arbiter. She hadn't recalled hearing the other Elites present say much at all – if anything. Then again, she hadn't been really paying attention.

Glancing over to Rookie, she felt relieved. She wished that he had told her the truth earlier. Her self-esteem had been in the dumps mostly because of how she act thought she had acted that night. Turns out – her drunken intentions had been mostly harmless – and a dead giveaway to her disorder that had only been signalled out today. She wondered how she was going to go about telling John – if Dr. Halsey didn't get to him first. It'd probably be best to just drop the bomb, as it were. It didn't need much of a prelude, John had seen what happened. She would only have to tell him why. Tell him why, tell him she was going to deal with it and be fit for continuing with the position expected of her. The last part was crucial, not just for the meetings, but for what lay ahead of them all.

* * *

**A/N: **Hope you enjoy this as always! Now this will be my last update before I leave for basic training. I will be back August 29th, and starting second year at university September 4th. If all goes well, you can expect a new update shortly thereafter! -AB


	41. Facing Fears

**Chapter 41: Facing Fears**

**December 17****th****, 2553 **

**State of Kyaam - Yermo - Sanghelios – Triple Star System of Urs, Fied, Joori**

The immediate events following Renee's unexpected reaction passed John by in a blur. He heard all that was said, took it in, understood it and registered the important parts. He had lots of experiencing filtering through conversation, determining and listening to what mattered and letting what didn't flow in one ear and out the other. What was discussed between Lord Hood and the Arbiter were mostly things he already knew. The politics were mostly a bore to him. He wished for orders to be given. He was here to aid in the defense of Sanghelios against the Brutes, nothing more. Due to his rank and his accomplishments, his attendance at these initial meetings was required, although he had really nothing to contribute. He was content with silently representing his Spartans. Arbiter, who had been alongside him long enough to realize he wasn't a man of much words during battle, wouldn't expect him to say much. That was comforting.

As much as he was trying to push it aside, John couldn't help about Renee's reaction to the Elites. It had been so sudden, and since she had convinced him she would be fine, it was also unexpected. He knew if there would be any fallout due to her response, it would land on his shoulders. It had been him, after all, who had suggested that she should represent the Marine Corps. He knew how it looked – that he had simply nominated her due to their connections and that she was the only marine on board that he knew personally; due to that he hadn't taken into account her actual lack of experience and the fact that she hadn't seen Elites since they had been the enemy.

John tried to read into Lord Hood's expression, waiting to catch that certain glance his way that would mean a future reprimanding. However, time passed and he didn't see one. John wouldn't be at ease, though. He wouldn't imagine that Hood would let something like this go without a word. Taking the situation into serious contemplation, John much wanted to believe that Renee had taken a reaction to the heat and not the dozen Elites present – but that wouldn't fly. She lived in California; she was no stranger to hot temperatures. He knew that it was the Elites that had provoked her spell, but he realized that she probably hadn't any control over it. She herself in fact had seemed surprised and even bewildered at her sudden weakness. It had been a panic attack, and they were generally unpredictable. John partially wanted to blame himself for her reaction. He should've known she'd be prone to such a thing and should've never nominated her. A part of him thought that he should've never allowed her to come on this mission in the first place. He knew she was strong-willed when she set her mind on a certain goal, but even the strongest of souls couldn't prevent a bodily reaction such as a panic attack when it sprung.

* * *

John hit the buzzer on the door to the room Renee was sharing with the ODSTs. It opened a second later, and he was greeted by Buck. Judging by the sleepy look on his face, John realized he must've disturbed them. A glance past his shoulder confirmed that most of them were in their bunks asleep. Renee, however, was sitting up in her bed, half-heartedly working on shining her dress shoes. Something just to pass the time, John realized.

"Can we help you, sir?" Buck asked, maintaining his professionalism.

John saw Renee look up, a new expression crossing her facial features once she saw him.

"Yes, I'd like to speak with Sergeant Kilburn," he said.

Buck nodded, and glanced over his shoulder to Renee, who heard him with no difficulty. Looking somewhat surprised, she set her shoes on the floor, and stood. She felt a lump in her throat, and quickly grabbed the bottle of pills from her locker and shoved them into her trousers pocket, not caring if Buck noticed. They would save her some explaining. She knew exactly why John wanted to speak to her.

She left the room and stepped into the hallway. She waited until the door closed before she made eye contact with John.

"Sir?"

"I'd like to speak to you… about today," he said, walking down the hall. She hurried to fall in step with him, although it was a leisurely pace.

"Is there a place you'd like to go?"

"No," John shook his head, "The hallway is fine, I'm certain. Everyone is asleep or near it. I understand what you experienced today was a panic attack."

"Yes."

"You've recovered well?"

"Yes – I am decent now," Renee nodded, "Although I'm near not perfect. Nor shall I be any time soon, I'd imagine. You can relate in that regard."

John stopped, turning to stare at her. She forced herself to make eye contact, and his eyes seemed to bore into her in such a haunting way that it was almost hypnotizing, yet intimidating at the same time. His mouth fell open a little, and then he closed it. Only to open it again – only this time sound actually came out.

"What do you mean?" his voice was gravelly and low.

"I wasn't well for a long time," she explained, "And I didn't even know it. I hadn't a clue. I still wouldn't know if Dr. Halsey hadn't put two and two together. Even the Rookie saw the signs…" she trailed off.

John didn't move. His eyes were stuck like glue, his expression was like stone. Intimidating. Daring. In a split second, his finger was jabbed in her chest, and he was inches from her face.

"No." he hissed, "No. Don't you drop that bomb on me; don't you fucking dare tell me you didn't know. Not after all the strings I pulled to get you here."

Renee paled.

"I'm not sure we're on the same page," she stammered.

"You know there's no way to get you home, Sergeant!"

"I don't want to go home!"

"Well, we can't just let you fight, can we?" John raised a brow, "Not in that condition!"

"You're going to fight!" Renee protested. The look that crossed John's face was one of total bewilderment. That was when she put two and two together. John didn't understand what she was trying to tell him at all. She could've laughed if he didn't look so angry, "… You think I'm pregnant?"

He said nothing.

Reaching in her pocket, she withdrew the pills and held them out to him.

"I hardly think Dr. Halsey would prescribe these for pregnancy, John."

John swiped the pills from her hand in a blur. He had the label read in a second, and was staring at her again the next. Nothing changed about his expression; he didn't look the least bit relieved. Nor did he apologize for his sudden reaction.

He handed the pills back to her, shaking his head in slight bewilderment.

"This is hardly better," he shook his head. The anger from earlier had disappeared; something new had sprung to his expression now. It seemed to be a mix of things, "You're still dropping a huge bomb on me. What a _perfect _time to be diagnosed, Renee. No, it couldn't have been just before we left, so I could've had you set up for a component transfer and out of the way of any danger…"

"There weren't Elites on Earth, John," she said in a level voice, "Seeing them was what triggered my panic attack and gave Dr. Halsey sufficient evidence to diagnose me. I'm certain with these drugs I'll be fine. You were fine with them…"

"Fine?" John echoed her words, "I think my definition of fine differentiates slightly from yours."  
Renee sighed.

"Dr. Halsey said my case was fairly mild. That attack, I couldn't have done anything to prevent it…"

"That's exactly the point!" he raised his voice, "We can't have you collapsing into a stiff shivering ball of nerves in a war zone! Do you think the Brutes will be polite and wait 'til you're done? They'd shoot you dead and move on!"

"I know, but with these drugs…"

"You haven't been on them long enough to know what they'll do for you!" John said, "Christ, you still don't know if your body chemistry will react to any of the severe side-effects."

"Believe in me, please," she begged, "I'm asking you to just give me a fair chance."

"I've given you plenty of chances!" John said, "The pivotal one was you coming with us to that meeting. You blew it, Renee. I hate to say, but you blew it."

"It was you who made me representative of the Marine Corps? And here I thought it was some mistaken idiot!"

"I'm beginning to think that's exactly what I was. There were several officers who would've been perfect candidates… I guess I'll have to pick one of them for tomorrow anyway." John watched Renee's expression change at this, "You're not going back out there, Sergeant Kilburn."

He sensed that there was someone behind him, and he took on the formalities. Renee, however didn't realize.

"But J.."

"That's an order, Sergeant." He snapped.

Renee looked crushed. She glanced behind John and saw Frederic-104 was standing not too far away. He was obviously waiting to speak to John. She tried her best to gain some composure, fighting back the overwhelming disappointment. Meeting John's eyes again, she said levelly,

"Permission to speak freely, sir."

John looked contemplative.

"If you are looking to simply argue or try to persuade me otherwise, no you can't."

"Yes, sir." Renee said, and fell silent. She dropped her eyes.

"This is the best decision I could make for you, Sergeant. You may not agree now, but you'll thank me later."

Renee knew what she wanted to say, but also knew she couldn't say it. That Spartan Fred had shown up and he too deserved the recognition of sir. Speaking her mind in front of two superior ranks wasn't a good idea. Although she'd crossed that line before and suffered the repercussions of it, she knew it wasn't wise to take that step at this moment. She felt frustrated with John, but at the same time, she felt rather calm about the situation. She made a bet to herself right away it was the drugs. They altered the serotonin levels in the brain, dulling some feelings and changing the way you reacted to certain situations – although designed for PTSD symptoms specifically, they tended to affect the regular emotion cycle, too, although mostly positively.

She understood something was different with her body because she knew herself too well. At this point in time upon receiving such news, she would've been upset, almost to the point of tears. This news was awful. She hoped he'd take it back. However, she felt nothing but slight frustration. She actually found herself more curious about the person John intended to appoint to take her place.

"If I may ask, who will take my place, sir?"

"That's yet to be decided," John said levelly, "There are a couple of officers that would be more adequate to participate in these talks."

"Why do you need someone new?" Frederic was pretending that he hadn't heard a thing, "Sergeant Kilburn has a fair enough file, doesn't she?"

"She suffered a panic attack today upon seeing the Elites," John explained, "We can't risk something like that happening again."

"This isn't the first time there's been a situation such as this, John. Thousands of marines had panic attacks for one reason or another. She was just lucky it wasn't in battle. They say the best way to fight your fear is to face it," the Spartan pointed out plainly.

"Thank you, sir," Renee spoke up, both surprised and glad that Fred appeared to be on her side. John's face was like stone, his black eyes darting from Renee and coming to rest on Fred, where they lingered. He said nothing and he didn't need to.

"Now don't give me that look," Frederic told John, keeping his voice fairly low, "You know we can't spare anybody on this mission, John. The whole point of her coming here would be wasted if you're just going to assign her to mop the floors or something like that. She's a Sergeant, a position more than fit to lead a squad. Now think about it, would you rather appoint a twenty-something Lance Corporal who was still in basic training when the final piece of the war was going on, who has hardly any leadership experience to be commander of a squad? Or would you rather a Sergeant who you know personally that she has seen her fair share of battle and has a pretty good clue how not to get herself or anyone else killed?"

John narrowed his eyes; he knew Fred too well. He made a good point – but only then did John realize what a huge responsibility Renee would have out on the field. The rank of Sergeant was too low for the assignment of squad 2IC, but not high enough for a platoon commander. Squad commander undoubtedly would be what she'd be assigned. She'd be responsible for leading 8-13 marines into battle. Depending on whether she'd be Alpha, Bravo, Charlie or Delta squad, she could either be providing covering fire and watching the rear, or on the offensive position on the front lines. She'd be commanding squad attacks. Regardless her responsibility was high and he realized Fred wasn't clearly comprehending that. He mustn't be.

"Sergeant Kilburn," Frederic said.

"Sir!" she said, straightening.

"I'll give you twenty-four hours recuperation time. Take care of yourself and get lots of rest. This means you will not attend further talks. There will be an officer appointed in your place as Master Chief originally said. However, when the time of conflict arrives, you will be expected to accompany everyone in battle and perform with equal drive and motivation. Just don't fuck up."

"Yes, sir! Thank you, sir!"

"Don't thank me. Go on and get some rest."

Renee saluted quickly and hurried off. John watched the little marine until she rounded a corner and was gone. Then he turned to Frederic.

"You know very well what you just did could get her killed," John said flatly. His expression was serious, although there was an underlying tone of regret on his features. He stared unblinking into his fellow Spartan's eyes, "I don't want anything to happen to her."

"You had more than enough power to keep her from coming here," Frederic said, "She seems to have determination. You've fought beside her, yes?"

"Twenty years ago."

"She was good?"

"Adequate. That was then. Today I watched her collapse into a shivering pile of nerves upon the sight of the Elites. I should've thought something like that would happen. She's been diagnosed by Halsey, she has a case of PTSD, directly from the events twenty years ago on Hydra."

"When she became comatose?"

"Exactly."

"It's a mild case, John. Even I can tell that. The memory triggers a panic attack, probably a couple nightmares here and there, emotional outbursts upon recollection of the event. If she was wanting to kill herself or acting dangerously, then I could see your concern. It's more paperwork to fill out if you want to choose someone else to participate in the talk tomorrow."

"I don't give a damn. I want one of the officers in her place."

Frederic sighed, folding his arms on his chest.

"Which one? You going to their quarters and handpicking?"

"Just might. I'm in the mood to make some CO's shit their pants." A cynical smirk crawled onto John's lips as he spoke, but it faded quickly, "I'll just see Cortana and get her to browse the files."

"Anything specific you'll be looking for?"

"Dunno yet," John shrugged, turning and making his way down the hall at a leisurely pace, "All I know is that I don't want Sergeant Kilburn going back out there in her condition. If it weren't for you, I wouldn't have her fighting either."

"I'm thankful for my ability to outrank you on certain decisions, then, John," Fred said, watching him leave.

John paused, glancing back over his shoulder.

"There would've been a day you would've loved me to order her to stay."

"I've seen her potential. She's just not any marine."

"No," John raised a brow, "No she's definitely not."

* * *

John walked into the board room, where Lord Hood, Dr. Halsey, Captain Dare and a handful of other higher-ups were mulling over a large holographic screen. He came to attention and saluted at the door and said the Sirs and Ma'ams required of him.

"John, do come in," Lord Hood returned the salute casually, "We'd love to have you here. Dealing with detailed orders and battle plans. Figure it would be right up your alley."

"Yes, indeed, sir," He replied, crossing the room to join them. He noticed out of the corner of his eye a few officers that he hadn't met before eyeing his size. They were probably wondering why Lord Hood was on a first-name basis with him, too. The idea of it seemed to amaze them. The next thing their eyes went to was the rank on his sleeve. Wheels turning, there was a noticeable change in their expression once they put two and two together and figured out exactly who they were in the presence of.

John glanced in their direction, getting a better look. There was a rather tall pear-shaped woman with black hair who was a Junior Lieutenant, a short older man with greying hair who was a Major, and a tall, young, somewhat lanky looking man who was surprisingly a Captain. He couldn't be any older than 30, John noted. He had a serious face, yet there was still something boyish about it. Thick brows hung over deep-set blue eyes with rather long lashes. High cheekbones, slightly sunk-in cheeks, straight nose and a simple mouth. His hair was buzzed so short it was hard to distinguish the color at a first glance – it was most likely brown. When John met his eyes, the Captain looked back calmly. There weren't any visible signs of intimidation.

"Master Chief, sir," The man spoke, and extended his hand towards him. His voice was smooth and soft-spoken. He even sounded young, "I've heard a lot about you, never thought I'd be lucky to meet you however. Captain Willenbrock. And please, we're both addressed as sirs, but I won't bother if you don't." He smiled slightly.

John shook the Captain's hand with a single tight-gripped shake and let go, nodding in response to his words. In his head, he was assessing him. There was a sign that this Captain could be a potential candidate for Renee's replacement in the talks on Sanghelios. John liked him almost right away – it was one thing he was good at, figuring people out almost immediately from the get-go. He was very much in tune with peoples' expressions and what they meant, their tone of voice and whether they were sincere, and their body language and how it conveyed the truth no matter how hard they tried to prevent otherwise.

"Captain Willenbrock is only 24 years old," Lord Hood pointed out, "He was one of the few who were subject to advanced promotion shortly after the war's end. There were so many places to fill."

"Have you seen battle?" John asked the Captain.

"Yes, I joined the marine corps when I was twenty-one. Fresh out of college. I had planned on going NCO, but the recruiter suggested that I don't let my degree go to waste and try for officer training. I was present during the final battle of Earth, stationed just outside of New Mombasa – they made me commander of Charlie Company when the original commander was killed. After the war, I received my advanced promotion from Junior Lieutenant to Captain."

"Impressive," John muttered, "You're comfortable with commanding a company, then?"

"Yes," Willenbrock nodded, "And Lord Hood has seen to it that I'll be commanding the company on board our ship. Alpha Company, I do believe?"

Lord Hood nodded once in affirmation.

"Excellent. So I expect the platoons and their associated squads have been organized, sir?" John looked to Lord Hood. He nodded, and traced his finger across the holographic panel, and an organized chart of the company, split into platoons, and platoons into squads, showed up – complete with ranks and names of all personnel, including the squad commanders.

"The ODSTs are separate since they're a special group, just like your Spartans," Dare added, looking to the screen, "They're not on this chart, but I promise you they'll be there to help."

John nodded, studying the breakdown of the company. He was looking for one name.

It took him a moment to find it.

_Sgt. Kilburn R.E – 3 Squad IC_ it said.

Just like he thought. Renee was a squad commander. The squad 2IC was one Corporal Greene. John mentally noted to look up their file afterwards. He felt antsy, if Renee was to be section commander, the second in command better be damn good and be able to cover her ass. He skimmed the names of the marines in the section. A handful of Privates, a few Lance Corporals and two Corporals. He prayed they all knew what they hell they were doing.

Lord Hood clued in to where John was looking.

"Speaking of Sgt. Kilburn, how is she coming along?" he asked.

"Well, sir," John nodded, "Although I informed her I will be finding a replacement to take her spot in the talks tomorrow."

"Understandable," Hood nodded, "Have you chosen someone yet?"

"No, sir. But, sir, I think I have someone in mind," John looked to Captain Willenbrock, "Captain, if you'd be so willing."

Captain Willenbrock looked genuinely surprised, then honored.

"Of course, if you think I'd be a good replacement, Master Chief."

"Great."

"Well, that was solved rather quickly," Lord Hood looked impressed.

"Yes, sir," John agreed.

"What happened to this Sergeant that she wasn't able to continue with the talks?" Captain Willenbrock asked, "I hope she's alright."

"Sergeant Kilburn suffered from a panic attack the other day upon seeing the Elites," Lord Hood explained, "She had a traumatic dealing with them earlier in the war…"

"She was shot by an Elite in 2535, went comatose for eighteen years," John interjected, leaving no detail out, "The same Elite killed her best friend right in front of her."

"Eighteen years?" Willenbrock looked generally bewildered, "Jesus. So, she would've just came out of it a year or so ago."

"It was her first time seeing Elites since the event. Dr. Halsey expects she's suffering from mild to moderate PTSD."

"That's a rather important detail you left out, John," Lord Hood said.

"I thought she would've mentioned it to you, sir," John answered, "But yes, it appears that's the case."

"Will she be medicated?"

"Halsey took care of that, sir. She's been prescribed selective serotonin reuptake inhibitors."

"Do you think she'll be well enough? I have her down as a squad commander," Lord Hood sounded suddenly very doubtful.

John fell silent. This could be the time to override what Fred had done. Lord Hood had ultimate say. All John had to do was say no.

"John?"

"I… have faith she'll do fine, sir." John said. He didn't like how he suddenly felt. He allowed a few moments of silence to tick on by before deciding that he wanted out of the room. He turned, came to attention, saluted, gave the appropriate sirs and ma'ams, and left the room abruptly and quickly as he could. The doors were just starting to hiss closed and John was already halfway down the hallway. Lord Hood wouldn't be upset at his sudden exit – John knew he often didn't bother questioning anything he did. He clenched his hands into fists. What he did for Renee! He was giving her way too many chances. A part of him wanted to go back and tell Captain Willenbrock that it was alright, Renee would be fine enough to take part in the talks after all.

John's body knew where he was headed before he had made his mind up. Down this hallway and that hallway, until he found himself at the room Renee was staying. He didn't even hit the buzzer, he just stepped forward and the door let him in.

The ODSTs and Renee, seeing him, moved all at once.

"Master Chief on deck!" Buck barked, coming to attention and delivering the salute. The others jumped out of bed to come to attention as well. Dutch got his foot caught in the bed sheets and half fell down the ladder off the top bunk, uncontrollably letting out a yell of surprise as he landed clumsily on the floor and hurried to straighten himself. Mickey and Romeo both held back laughter, emitting snorts. Buck's mouth twitched into a smirk. Rookie just looked bewildered, and Renee's expression wasn't far from the same.

"Stand easy," John said, "Don't kill yourselves, now, men."

Mickey, no longer bound by the formal restrictions of standing at attention, started roaring, looking to Dutch.

"What the hell was that?" he demanded, "Wish I had that on video!"

"Now if you could only move that fast all the time!" Romeo remarked.

"I swear I was this close to kissing the floor plates," Dutch said, "Wasn't funny!"

"I may randomly drop in to see more displays like that, that was something else, Dutch," John said in a serious tone, although it was for comical purposes, "No, sorry for barging in as I did. Sergeant Kilburn, I need to speak to you again please."

Renee nodded, and left the room with him. Once the doors had closed, John looked down to her. She was waiting for him to speak.

"I found a replacement for you. Captain Willenbrock… he received an advanced promotion, he's just 24… seen battle…"

"Look, John, I don't care who's replaced me." Renee said flatly, putting all formalities aside, "As long as they won't have a panic attack, that's all that matters right?" The last sentence came out acidic from her mouth.

"I also thought you should know that when conflict arises, you are commander of 3squad."

"They made me a squad commander?" she demanded, "Or did you, as some sort of form of repayment…"

"No, Lord Hood and several other officers have been compromising the list of the squads for the platoons. You're a Sergeant, you're no longer going to be following anyone around on a leash. You've got the leash now, with twelve NCOs in your command."

Renee was strangely silent, looking at him as if she was expecting him to cry out "just joking!" and laugh in her face.

"What?" John demanded.

"So, let me get this straight," Renee said, "I'm not seen fit enough to take part in a meeting, yet I'm just fine and dandy to lead a whole fucking squad?"

"Lord Hood asked me if you would be fine. I said yes, I said yes when I easily could've said no. That's my last favor for you. Don't make me regret my decision."

"I can see it all over your face that you already do," Renee said calmly, "Why else did you come to me? You want me to say that I don't want to do it, that I won't be able to do it."

"I have all the faith in you that you can do it, Renee. I just worry about you, you know that."

"You'll be there, close by."

"I'm going to try."

"Well, you have nothing to worry about," Renee tried to lighten the mood, "Now I have to rehearse squad attacks – I wonder if the ODSTs would help."

"With squad attacks, squads split into assault groups – assault group one and two. Assault groups split into fire teams. Right to left, Bravo, Alpha, Charlie, Delta. Charlie clears the objective while the others hold the line. Squad IC is always in Alpha, squad 2IC is always in Delta. Bravo and Delta have LMGs and or rocket launchers." John rhymed this off as if he was reading it.

"Right," Renee nodded, remembering, "As squad IC I call out the orders."

"Remember the GRIT acronym," he told her, all business now. He wanted to make sure that she had it down pat, "Once you make contact, it's group – address those you are commanding whether it be fire teams, assault groups, or squad; range – how far away the target is; indication – clock ray, finger method, or auxiliary method to where your target is, and finally, type of fire." He waited for her to nod, "Now give me a hypothetical example."

"Contact," She said, clearly thinking this over, "Squad, squad, squad."

John nodded.

"Targets in ditch, 300 meters," Renee continued, "Eleven-o'clock. Rapid fire."

"There you have it," John seemed pleased. He let out a little sigh, and leaned against the wall, folding his arms across his chest. He met her eyes, "I've been so hard on you because I care about you. I worry about you as if you were one of my Spartans. But, you prove to me sometimes that a lot of my worrying is for nothing. You've always had what it takes to lead. I sometimes wish you would've gone to the military college and became an officer."

"For my initial aptitude test – I did score high enough for officer." Renee confessed, "But Amy didn't." She smiled at the memory, "We agreed beforehand if we were going to join, we'd try our best to stick together. So I stayed with her and went non-comm."

"You never told me this," John seemed surprised.

"I never thought it mattered!" Renee shrugged, laughing lightly, "Anyway, there would've been someone I probably never would've met if things had been any different."

"The ODSTs," John tried to be modest, although Renee knew that he knew exactly who she was talking about.

"Nope, some Spartan. Master Chief I think he's called?" She played along.

"Oh, him." John kept a straight face, "What an asshole."

They kept their composure for a couple seconds before their smiles broke through and they started to laugh. So unplanned, John thought. Today had been such a rollercoaster. He allowed himself to laugh – he didn't quite remember the last time he had done so. It was good to see Renee with a smile on her face, the laughter making her cheeks pink. A slight morale boost to lighten the current situation – it never hurt.

"Commanding a squad is enough. I couldn't imagine commanding a platoon or a company," Renee was honest, her smile fading, "I sure respect those who do. Who is my second hand man for 3 squad?"

"A Corporal Greene." John answered, "Haven't gotten a chance to look them up yet."

"Please do. I want their talents to match mine, if not surpass them. I hope they have a decent amount of combat experience."

"Lord Hood and several other higher ups had all the say in creating the squads. I wouldn't worry," John said, hoping that could be true. Lord Hood wouldn't be that ridiculous as to appoint someone with hardly any experience to be second in command of a squad – yet times were tough. Many personnel who had fought in the Human-Covenant War had opted for voluntary retirement, or had been discharged on medical grounds. There wasn't much room for picking and choosing. Who was to be chosen for the specific company, well, they were on this very ship.

"I've got a strange feeling about this one, John," Renee confessed, "I always felt nervous before any battle. Over time I learned how to keep it at a minimum, yet I'd always feel it pushing through. Not enough to ruin my composure or to make my hands shake but, my heart would always pound. Uneasiness would always accompany me. This isn't nervousness – I don't feel nervous at all, and that's what bothers me. You must know it, that feeling deep in the pit of your stomach; the dryness in your throat – it's not there for me. I haven't felt it. Even now that I know I'm to have not only a weapon in my hands, but a squad in my command. I just… I feel different."

John looked like he had tasted something sour, that her words were hurtful to his ears.

"It's probably just your medication."

"Perhaps," Renee gave a shrug, "Either way, I'd rather feel nervous. I'd rather feel scared. Sometimes it's the only thing that still reminds you you're alive. This numbness, I can relate it to the time I was shot. I wasn't nervous, I wasn't scared. I knew I was shot, I knew I was bleeding. I knew it was bad but yet, mentally, I was okay with it. Everything was just okay."

"You sound like…" John started, but quickly cut himself off.

"Who?"

"No one." He said. He could remember on Reach, Grace had said something similar to him. Not a day later, he remembered vividly finding her dead – her body seared in two – killed by a Hunter. Another memory flashed back to John, as real as the day it had occurred. Boot camp. CPO Mendez had been teaching a class. He had been pacing back and forth the front of the classroom rather casually, arms folded behind his back,

"_Did you know, it has been said that we as humans sometimes have a sixth sense. We can sense our own deaths even before they occur. Animals do it. They sense their own deaths and crawl off to find some peaceful place to be alone. They curl up, and they die. Now it'd be ridiculous to say we'd do the same thing – as soldiers, as Spartans, you're going to be fighting 'til your last breath. Never surrender to death, but don't fear it either. You'll know when it's coming. You don't have to be lying there bleeding to death to realize it, either. You'll come face to face with death many times but it may not touch you. You may feel it dancing about, wanting to snatch you up, but you'll know it's not your time. However, you may feel it hovering, waiting patiently… and you'll know. Your time left can't be predicted, but you'll know. Happened to a soldier I was fighting with once. A day or so before, he was acting right calm about everything. Just calm, not nervous. Nothing fazed him. He died – took a shot to the head from a sniper. Sounds eerie to say, but I believe he knew his time was up. Now, that was for him – bless his soul and all that. You and only you alone will find out if what I'm saying is a load of bullshit – which it very well may be, who knows? – or if it's true."_

"Are you sure you're ready for this?" John asked, blinking away the memory. He felt like he had been doused in ice water, "I mean, are you sure? If your medication is making you feel this way, then maybe.."

"It's probably just a spur of the moment thing," Renee gave a small smile, "When it's time for me to be scared, I don't think any amount of drugs will prevent me from being scared. I just need to be able to fear the right things, that's all. No more Elites." She paused, "So get back to me on this Corporal Greene?"

John nodded.

"I'll see you later, then." He said quietly.

"Mhm! You know where I'll be."

He didn't move as she walked past and went back into room. For a while after, he stayed. John wasn't sure how much time passed, but when he finally turned to make his leave, he felt rather numb himself.

* * *

**A/N: **Back from basic training and back to university! My class schedule does have quite a bit of free time, so look forward to hopefully regular and frequent updates. I'm happy to say I've completed both Basic Military Qualification (Common) and Basic Military Qualification (Land) courses – together just a bit over 9 weeks living on base and being immersed in the toughness of military life. I learned a lot and came out a lot stronger and confident as an individual. My favorite part? Throwing grenades! Wow, what a blast – pun intended! I'm now working Thursday nights at my local armouries until I can apply for a component transfer into the Reg force, where I hope to become a Naval officer. What I learned definitely will help in writing of this story – and I'm not going to lie, I'll probably go back and do some editing, especially Renee's basic training scenes. Hope you enjoyed this chapter as usual and keep rooting for what is to come. - AB


	42. Calm Before the Storm

**Chapter 42**

**December 18****th****, 2553 - UNSC Bridgetown**

_The pounding on the door sounded like a sledgehammer, smashing Renee into consciousness. Her eyes flew open, almost in time with the door as the Sergeant barged in, flipping on the light switch with impatient ferocity. "Wake the fuck up, troops! Be dressed in your PT gear and out on the parade square in five minutes!" He didn't wait for a confirmation, slammed the door shut and went to treat the next room to a similar reveille. Renee threw back the covers, the itchy fire blanket and bland room containing only bunks and lockers reminded her of where she was. She'd slept in her PT gear to make things a little easier, an old t-shirt and gym shorts. Vision still foggy, she fumbled for her socks and sneakers, pulling them on her feet. Above her on the top bunk, Amy let out an array of creative profanities and made her way down the ladder slowly – comparable to that of a sloth. _

"_Fuckin' run, did he say? Fuck sakes, I can't run."_

"_Better than a march with full fighting order," Renee mumbled, taking a weary look to her helmet, tac-vest and flak vest sitting in the bottom shelf of her locker. Throwing that heavy shit on first thing in the morning was always a nightmare._

_Renee hurried to the bathroom for a morning piss, and when she returned, some of her platoon was starting to make their way downstairs. She stuck her head in her room to gather Amy, who was still bitching about what was ahead. She locked the door, and tossed the keys around her neck._

"_Fuck. Stay with me for the run?" Amy asked._

"_Try to keep up the best you can."_

"_Fuck off, you know I try."_

_They clambered down the stairs and out the main doors. It was still dark outside – 0500 – and the air was cool and crisp, assaulting bare arms and legs. They all knew though, as they formed up in three rank formation, they'd be shivering for only so long. Nearing the end of the run they would be sweaty and exhausted, muscles burning; their only motivation would be the thought of a quick cold shower and drinking from freshly filled canteens before morning inspection._

Renee blinked away the memory, surprised at how vivid she was able to summon it, even after all these years. Boot camp, a thirteen-week ordeal that had pushed everyone to their limits and beyond. "Pain is just weakness leaving your body!" had been her PT instructor's motto. He would say it rather nonchalantly after observing someone wheezing in exhaustion, wincing from freshly burst blisters, or struggling with the weight of their required gear. There had been times where she had wanted to quit, she remembered, and many more where she had asked herself what the hell she had signed up for.

Always, she had had respect for the instructors. The Sergeants or Petty Officers who would get themselves red in the face from screaming at someone's stupidity – they had to deal with everything imaginable. Sure they were envied when they were seen walking around in civvy clothes when the troops were still slaving away at making their MA5Bs spotless, but when it was taken into consideration what exactly they had to do, Renee had been glad she was the student and not the instructor. There were days that the instructors wanted to beat some troops senseless. Troops leaving their weapons unattended, someone not keeping their weapon pointed down range, another locking themselves out of their room, and someone forgetting to bring what they'd been told to bring five minutes prior. When it came time to train in the field, they were the ones who had to watch the troops' excruciatingly awful first attempts at squad attacks. They were given wet-nosed civilians, some who perhaps weren't aware what they had signed up for, and had to turn them into hard-ass marines.

Renee wouldn't be dealing with troops fresh from civvy-side, but John had gotten back to her on the details of those in her squad. Only about half had fought in the Human-Covenant war. Some had been deployed, but didn't get to see any action before the war ended. Her second in command, Corporal Charlie Greene, was only 27 and had fought approximately for two years in the Human-Covenant war. Two years, but two of the hardest years: the final ones. He had seen battle both on Earth and in space. John had assured her that he seemed well experienced.

"I wouldn't lie to you about the man who will have your back when I won't," He had said. John then suggested to her that she find Corporal Greene and then, the two of them find the rest of their squad and meet them before shit hit the fan. To make things easier, he had done a bit of prying and provided her with his room number.

That's where Renee found herself now. She didn't hesitate before hitting the buzzer. From within, she heard a man's voice casually call, "Come in!"

She opened the door, and quickly took in the room – a three-bunk, six-bed setup like her own. All those were occupied by men. They were in various states of dress, from the casual gym attire to the standard uniform. Upon seeing her, they grew quiet.

"I'm Sergeant Kilburn," Renee said calmly, and at mention of her rank, they stood in respect, coming to attention – giving away there were none of equal rank within the room, "Relax, marines. I'm looking for Corporal Greene."

"Sergeant," The man standing beside the furthest bunk said. His voice had a slight accent – but with one word spoken Renee couldn't be sure what it was. He was fairly tall and well built, with buzzed hair and a tattoo of the UNSC insignia on his right bicep. He was wearing a simple wife-beater, a pair of gym shorts and sneakers. By Renee's guess, he was soon headed to the gym.

"If you're not busy, I'd like a word, Corporal."

"Yes Sergeant," He took weary glance down at his current attire.

"As you are. Don't worry. It is nothing formal."

Renee stepped out of the room, and he was quick to follow. She led him in silence a ways down the hall, before stopping and turning to him. Now that he was closer, she took note of his blue eyes and the scar that crossed down across his left one. He looked alert and attentive, his expression friendly and curious.

"Are you aware that you are to be second in command of 3 squad, Corporal?" Renee cut right to the chase.

"Yes, Sergeant. I just found out earlier this morning." Enough out of him to place a finger on his accent. Irish.

"Well, I'm the squad commander," She extended her hand, "I figure we be acquainted before the plasma and bullets start flying." She laughed slightly.

Greene shook her hand with a firm grip.

"I was starting to wonder when I'd find out who it'd be," he admitted, "You are a familiar face. I've seen you around ship – with the ODSTs. And I think… with one of the Spartans, perhaps?"

"That would be me, yes," Renee was relieved that she could catch no signs of disapproval in his tone.

"I've been told I'm fairly well at reading people, Sergeant, and let me declare that I think you must be quite experienced." To this she shrugged, and Greene continued, "Although you do look rather young. I'm guessing you've taken a peek into my file to know my age. You're a few years senior to me, perhaps?"

Renee couldn't help but laugh heartily.

"I wish, Corporal."

"32?"

"Do you commonly guess the age of all the Sergeants you just meet?" Renee raised a brow, although she felt somewhat flattered – whether he was being honest or just polite.

"Well, I haven't been completely up to par with formalities," Greene grinned, "and you haven't torn me a new asshole yet for that, so I felt I'd take a stab at guessing."

"And this is the man I'm going to have covering my back?" Renee joked, "Corporal, don't make me regret the idea of wanting to get to know you beyond your name and rank."

"Well, Sergeant, I live by honesty. I've been known to speak my mind – gotten me a bloody nose or two, and one too many kicks in the ass during training, but I'm still alive and a pretty damn good shot, so sleep sound."

"How good of a shot?"

"Took out a Brute from 800 yards, one shot to the head."

"Sniper rifle?"

"Of course. Our original sniper had been wounded – somebody had to take up the rifle, I volunteered. I originally trained with explosives, but sharp-shooting is a bit of a passion of mine." Greene said, folding his arms on his chest. He paused for a moment, looking rather thoughtful before continuing, "Outside the UNSC, my loves include beer, history, my mum's cooking, and good sex. My family's Irish and German – one hell of a combination, and I have a dog named Snafu. Brief bio, but that highlights the most important things, I think. How about you, Sergeant?"

Renee couldn't wipe the smile off her face. What a character!

"My life is going to sound awfully boring compared to yours," She said, "Native of LA… lived there all my life…"

"City of Angels, never been. Let's go to the mess hall, take a seat, have a coffee," The latter part sounded more like a command than a suggestion, but Greene was grinning, "Isn't it popular, for people to discuss their lives over a cup of coffee?"

"A lot can be discussed over a cup of coffee, Corporal." Renee non-verbally agreed with his suggestion, for they started walking in the direction of the mess hall.

"You sound like seeing me wasn't the only thing on your to-do list today. Forgive me, I'm not much acquainted with Sergeantly things – although I do hope to make it there one day."

"You're not far off," Renee raised a brow, "Do a good job out in the field and you may even find yourself promoted by the time this bullshit is done with. And, to clarify, no, I am not busy. I originally had a handful for a schedule – you must've heard of the talks going on with the Sangheili – well, I did participate in one, but unfortunately I'm no longer able to."

"They'd much rather have you twiddling your thumbs and having coffee breaks, instead?" Greene smirked, "How kind of them."

"Decided they'd rather have an officer take my place," Renee said simply. They had arrived at the mess hall. It was mostly empty – the lull between breakfast and lunch. A good time for a coffee, however. She could smell it as soon as they entered.

"Ah." Was Greene's reply, "Nothin' you can do about that sort of thing."

"I'm afraid not."

"Pick a seat, Sergeant. I'll grab coffee for us both. How do you take yours?"

"Two cream, just a pinch of sugar."

"Had you figured for all-black," Greene remarked.

"Good lord, no."

"It's delicious!" Greene's voice carried across the cafeteria as he went to make the coffee, "Nothing you can't be trained to like. When I first started drinking coffee when I was young lad, I'd make it just so, all you'd taste is sugar. My dad sorted me out right quick. Weaned me off the cream and sugar little by little each breakfast, so within a bit he had me drinking it black like him. Now the only thing I put in mine sometimes is a little whiskey."

"Irish, no doubt."

"I'd be betraying my country if I had anything else," Greene was returning with two mugs. He set them down on the table, sliding Renee's towards her, "There's your poison, Sergeant."

"Thank you." She took a sip, "Why there's hardly any sugar in it!"

"Indeed. Gotta get ya weaned off it soon! They're not gracious with the sugar in the ration packs nowadays. Better take to bitter coffee now before we're out in the field."

"Rations." Renee groaned.

"Don't like 'em?"

"The meals look like they've been eaten and regurgitated back into the bag. The coffee, pepperoni and energy bars are usually all I'll eat out of them. Unless I happen to get my hands on a number 10."

Greene roared.

"Number 10?"

"Baked beans. They're actually tolerable."

"Well I'll be sure to snatch it for ya before any of our squad does. Or just threaten to beat 'em for insubordination if anybody takes your precious number 10."

"Sounds fair," Renee said, "Have you received a list of names of those in our squad?"

"No Sergeant, have you?"

Renee reached into her breast-pocket and withdrew a tattered notebook - it looked like it had been through the washer and dryer at least once. Already open to the page, Renee slid the notebook across the table to him.

"A fellow soldier of mine was able to tell me, I copied them down." It had been John of course. Apparently one glance was all he had needed to absorb the names and relay them to her. Renee was thankful for his help. She wouldn't have been sitting with Greene now if it weren't for John.

"This fellow soldier of yours must have a photographic memory to remember all these. Ranks too!" Greene was impressed. He took out a pen and his own notebook that looked brand new, "Picked this up before we left," he muttered, and began copying the names, "A couple of these guys are in my room – at least they won't be_ all_ unfamiliar faces."

"Shall we pay them a visit later?" Renee suggested.

"Why not! After you finish telling me your autobiography and our coffee cups are empty, of course."

"I was hoping you'd forget about that part."

"No way," Greene smirked, "and… Private Kowalski…" he said the last name out loud as he copied it, "There. Thanks, Sergeant. I'll get to match these with the faces." He flipped the notebook shut and jammed it along with the pen back into his breast pocket. He took a rather large gulp of his coffee, then pointed to Renee.

"Your story. Continue."

"That sounded a bit like an order; mind your rank," Renee scolded.

"For Christ's sake, Sergeant, you're stalling," Greene made a face, "Out of the kindness of my heart I gave you information about myself. It's like drunken flash games, I'll show you mine, you show me yours. Although we're telling, not showing. Please don't take that as an attempt at fraternization. I don't want to see… nor show…"

"You should probably just stop talking, Corporal."

"And you start. Brilliant idea."

"If you insist," Renee began, "I was like most young people who grew up during the war I think. As a child it was all I heard about, despite my parents' efforts to keep me sheltered from the worst of it. I went through school, and we were told not to worry. The Covenant would never make it to Earth, everyone said. The aspirations of that particular generation involved joining the UNSC. If you went to university, it would be so you could get a job in the UNSC. The decision for me was easy; it was the same one many of my graduating class made: join the Marine Corps straight out of high school – and it's been all I've really known. To think of it, I haven't had much time in civvy-life to really develop any passions for anything."

"You had those eighteen or so years before joining!" Greene protested, "What'd you do?"

"I played hockey in high school," Renee shrugged, "I liked hiking and running. I suppose you could say I liked to act, was in a couple plays. It's so strange talking about it! It was so long ago."

"What do you do now?"

"This," She said plainly.

"And that's it?"

"As soon as I was well enough after my physiotherapy, and… found an ex-enlisted friend of mine… we both rejoined."

"Physiotherapy? You were medically discharged, then! What happened, if you don't mind me asking, Sarge. Can I call you Sarge?"

"Everyone else does. In fact, it's Lil Sarge."

Corporal Greene laughed,

"Because of your height, am I right?"

"Or the lack thereof, yes."

"I've heard worse nicknames... don't feel bad. But yeah, what happened to ya?"

"I was shot and fell into a coma for eighteen years." She said it all in one breath, keeping eye contact with Greene so she could watch his expression change. However, it wasn't as drastic as she expected.

"So it isn't a lie to say the UNSC's been all you've really known, then."

"It sure isn't. Some days I wish it were different; nine times out of ten, I don't mind it."

"I was shot before," Greene related, "Took a plasma needle right through the thigh. The doc said it was about two inches from hitting that big ol' artery. If it had done that, he said, I'd have bled out and been tits up in about a minute or so."

"You're lucky."

"So are you, by the sounds of things."

"Well I wouldn't quite say that."

"As grim as it sounds, I'd rather be in a coma for eighteen years than die," Greene took a gulp of his coffee, "Tell me, did it seem like eighteen years?"

"It's just… a gap in my life. I remember really nothing. When I passed out, I was a nineteen year old, and when I woke up I was thirty-seven, with hair longer than I'd ever imagined I'd have, and a face that I had to get used to seeing in the mirror."

"All that time… you must've been devastated."

"I was shocked," Renee admitted, "But I woke up at the right time in the war where I wasn't quite sure whether I'd ever see outside the four walls of my hospital room. The Covenant were on Earth then; I was half expecting to be glassed at any moment."

"It must've thrown a wrench in any plans you had had for the future," Greene seemed bewildered.

"I never was one to think too far ahead," Renee mused, "At nineteen, how serious are your plans, anyway? Besides, fighting in the war taught me to take time day by day, sometimes even hour by hour. You never really knew whether you'd be certain to see tomorrow. I never had dreams of marriage, or a family, or anything of the sort."

"Did you have a man? I find it hard to believe someone with your looks didn't."

Renee caught her breath, and glanced down into the contents of her coffee mug before meeting Greene's eyes again.

"I did, yes."

"Civilian?" Greene asked. He paused, noticing Renee's expression, "My apologies, Sergeant, you can tell me to fuck off if I'm too forward… I'll understand." He smirked.

"No, it's fine," Renee sipped at her coffee, "He wasn't a civilian. He was a member of the UNSC just as I was. Met him while on tour, to be honest."

"You have no one now?" Greene didn't dare ask what happened of the man of Renee's past. She didn't seem the most comfortable talking about it. He hypothesized he was either killed or when she had woken up from the coma he had moved on, "I mean, no serious plans of marriage or kids?"

"No. Either of those things… I just couldn't picture."

"Please don't hesitate to throw your coffee in my general direction for what I'm about to hypothesize, Sergeant," Greene said, "But I've heard a couple things goin' 'round. I won't call 'em rumors, more like assumptions. Once I heard tale of it, I decided to see if I could notice it for myself." Greene halted, almost like he was expecting to be doused in coffee or to have her launch a verbal tirade at him, but when he studied her expression, it was calm. Her brown eyes contained a blatant curiosity. So he continued: "You… and that Spartan. You've got a past."

"How can you tell?" Renee asked.

"You're a bright little ball of laughter and all things merry when I see you with the Troopers. Whenever the Spartan comes around, it's like you freeze up. You can read it all over your face as if someone wrote it there in big letters. I wouldn't call it a shyness, but there's definitely a reserved attitude you suddenly don like a heavy blanket. You can tell that it's not because he's an intimidating individual – and that he is, very much so. There's a story that you two share, or perhaps have shared – and it's plainly seen in the way you act, the way you speak when you're around each other. His face is like a stone and it's hard to interpret much from the scowl he wears, but you, it's plain as day for you. It's like when you look at him your mind is suddenly flooded with memories, or secrets, or an event that happened that you'd rather not recall."

"Well, you certainly do read people well." Renee replied, and was well aware of the waiver in her voice when she did, "As strange as it sounds, yes, I do have a history with Master Chief."

"He… he's Master Chief?" Greene seemed taken aback, "I mean, I knew the guy was onboard this ship, but I didn't know which one of the Spartans was him. I wasn't about to go up and ask either." He shook his head, "Well, that's something to be proud of, to have a history with _the _Master Chief."

"I like to think I owe him my life. He saved mine more than once," Renee said, "I wish I could say I've saved his, but he's best friends with death and has more lives than a cat. Spartans don't need 'saving'."

"As the old saying goes… Spartans never die."

"That's bullshit," Renee said fiercely at first. Instantly following, however, she grew calm. The memory of Elsie's dead body being wheeled from her room in a body-bag flashed into her mind, "…found that out the hard way." She took a deep breath, "Spartans do die, but if there's one thing they seem to have endless amounts of, it's luck."  
Renee and Greene were both distracted by the sound of the mess hall doors hissing open. They had been alone in the room until now. In strode John, looking oddly casual in a pair of sweatpants and a simple white muscle-tee. He was making a b-line for the items set out for the brunch, but he took note that he wasn't alone. His eyes snapped to Renee and Greene, and for a moment, he didn't move.

"Don't tell me you're resorting to caffeine already," he said levelly, "The day is still young."

Greene flicked his eyes to Renee, unsure if the Spartan was speaking to both of them or just her.

"I didn't sleep well last night," Renee replied, leaning her hand on her chin. Noting the casualness in her voice and her lack of usage of "sir" seemed to relax Greene a little. He took a sip of his coffee, seeming intrigued on the conversation that was about to occur.

"You slept better than I did, I promise." John made sure he was next to their table before continuing. He leaned heavily on it, letting his head hang. A heavy sigh preceded his words, "Things are getting hot down below… so much that our Sangheili correspondents are hesitant about having any important personnel topside for collaboration. Communication is almost strictly done on high security comm-channels now."

"Just overnight?"

John nodded.

"Good to see you've gotten together with Corporal Greene. The two of you can relay what I've told you to your squad if you wish. It may prevent them from doing too much gaggle fucking. Things are getting serious. We need everyone at their fullest potential right now."

"Yes, sir," Greene replied almost instantly, "You can count on us. Sergeant Kilburn seems to know what's what. She's got quite a bit of experience as I understand– and you fought alongside her I heard."

John studied Greene for a moment before replying. There wasn't a single ounce of intimidation on his face. Confidence was strong his voice, with the right amount of respect – and a hint of curiosity.

"As you will be doing soon enough," He answered plainly, "She'll have your back if you have hers. I've accessed your files – and I have Sergeant Kilburn here talking to you now because I want to be absolutely sure that you are suited to take on the responsibilities of being second-in-command of a squad – and that Sergeant Kilburn can count on you at all times."

"I've got big shoes to fill," Greene replied, taking a glance down at John's feet, "Literally and figuratively. But I am confident of my capabilities in battle, sir."

"Good." John gave a nod, "You will be able to find the members of your squad in the room in which you're currently staying, and in the one directly across the hall."

"Thanks, sir."

John went to turn to leave.

"What will you do?" Renee asked him immediately, getting to her feet.

"Get ready," John said simply.

"Do the other Spartans already know?"

"Yes. I suspect they're doing the same." He paused, glancing to Greene, who was watching them attentively. John lowered his voice ever so slightly, meeting Renee's eyes, "And so should you. Prepare yourself. Stay calm. Think. You'll see Brutes. You'll see Elites. It'll be undoubtedly the deadliest situation you have seen since Hydra." He paused, and watched Renee's face become readable as a book – just at the mention of the battle her mind was nearly overwhelmed. "I mean it. Soldiers will be counting on you. Greene will be counting on you. He'll have your back, but remember you're no use to anybody if you freeze up. Just get into that necessary mental zone and do what needs to be done."

Renee moved her head in a single nod. She felt her stomach churn uneasily. John turned on his heel and headed towards the exit. In a few long strides, he was gone from the room, his heavy footsteps echoing down the hall. Renee, still standing, looked to Greene.

"The Chief knows what's what, that's for sure," Greene commented, finishing off his coffee in a final large gulp before getting to his feet himself, "Let's go round up our squad Sergeant, before shit hits the fan."

"Before that… let's stop at the armory. I'd feel better if I got into my gear."

"We haven't received any orders…"

"Obviously, Corporal. I just want to be ready when we do." Renee was firm in her decision.

"Fair enough, Sergeant." As Renee had the authority, Greene wasn't about to protest.

* * *

Ten minutes later, Renee was in her full battle uniform, with her helmet slung under her arm. A loaded M6D pistol was in its holster on her utility belt, along with two extra magazines. Her tactical vest, for the moment, was empty, aside from a freshly filled litre canteen of water, a small emergency first aid kit that included a single shot of morphine and a one-use canister of biofoam, and last but not least, a 4-inch switch-blade. All this gear was quite heavy, and she hadn't even gathered the five magazines for the MA5B, two frag grenades, or the MA5B itself. She had wanted to get them then, but Greene assured her that she would have more than enough time to get those when the time came.

"You'll tucker yourself out before we even get to the battlefield, strutting around in all that gear," Greene had commented. He had chosen to mimic her only in wearing his battle fatigues, but not the body armor or any equipment. Her determination for going full-out, however was admirable. What she lacked in stature she made up for in energy. However, whenever Greene looked to her face, there was worry written all over it. Pre-battle jitters had no doubt pounced her, and it seemed that she gained some sort of ease by being ready long before the time came.

On the way to their squad-member's rooms, Renee and Greene passed quite a few personnel, and received curious looks from most of them. One of them was Buck, who, seeing Renee with an unfamiliar face, stopped her.

"Whoa, Lil Sarge, did I miss an announcement?" He asked.

"No, Gunny, I just figured I'd feel better being ready… for when the announcement comes."  
"Ah;" Buck nodded, and then looked to Greene, "and you feel better being at least half ways so, Corporal…"

"Greene."

"Greene is my 2IC of 3 squad," Renee filled Buck in.

"Very nice," Buck approved, "So I take it you've heard something's going down soon?"

"Yes, straight from the Spartan's mouth. And you?"

"That's been the general buzz around here, anyway. But whether or not my ODSTs and I will be jumping as soon as shit goes down, that's yet to be determined." Buck glanced around quickly to make sure no one was near enough to hear, and then leaned in closer to Renee, lowering his voice to a near-whisper, "I've spoken to Veronica. She speculates that we'll get the order to jump _only_ if things get bad. Now with Spartans being on the ground right from the get-go, that reality seems hard to fathom. However if the casualty rates among the marines reaches a certain level, well, we're going in hot."

"So a part of me should not want to see any of you falling into atmosphere."

"No," Buck replied, "However at the same time it bothers me that we can't be with you guys right from the start. It'll be difficult to be up here onboard twiddling our thumbs while you are on the ground being shot at."

"Hopefully we can kill 'em all and you ODSTs get a taste of it too," Greene said.

"If I don't get to see you before the orders are called, good luck," Buck told them both. He clapped Renee on the shoulder, "You take care of yourself down there Lil Sarge."

"Thanks Eddie," Renee said, smiling slightly, "You too, if it comes to it."

Buck carried on, and after a pause, so did the two marines.

"You have good connections," Greene observed as they strode down the corridor, "Master Chief, Gunnery Sergeant Buck, the rest of the ODSTs… but none of them are marines."

"I think I can count you as a good connection," Renee told him.

"Well, thanks. Besides me though, Sergeant."

"Aside from the last few months, it has been a long time since I've been in the Marine Corps. Any friends I made died all those years ago – during the battle of Hydra, mostly. My only living best friend quit when I fell into the coma. She now resides on Earth, is happily married, has a son, and is pregnant," Renee paused, thinking of Amy and how her pregnancy must be coming along. She tried to think how many months it had been so far – and was overcome with a longing to see her, to speak with her. But she quickly pushed the thought out of her head – it wasn't something to think of hours – or maybe less - before a battle, "When I came back into service I spent a lot of time with Master Chief and the ODSTs – we were deployed on a mission together. I never really got to know any marines."

"You'll know a whole squad of 'em here in just a bit," Greene pointed out, "The rooms are not far, now. I figure we just call them out in the hall, take a couple minutes of their time – enough to introduce ourselves, and send them on their way until we need them – which may be sooner than we think."

* * *

John walked into the armory, where Kelly, Frederic and Linda were in various stages of gearing up. Linda, who was fully armored aside from her helmet, was helping Frederic secure his chest plate. Kelly leaned casually on one of the tables nearest them, looking sleek in her black matte body suit. She had yet to get any of the armor plates attached. Upon seeing John enter the room, she straightened.

"John, about time!" she said coolly, "Now I have someone to help me put my armor on."

"I was going to help you next, exercise some patience," Linda told her, giving Frederic's chest plate a rather hard smack, "I'm a Spartan, not an octopus. How's that feel Fred?"

"Good, I think I'm all set. Thank you Linda," Fred replied, turning to John, "How are you? Still feeling safe enough to wear just that, I gather." He gestured to John's casual attire.

"Putting on the Mark VII is next on my agenda," John answered calmly, "Do you want me to help, Kelly?"

"I've got her covered, don't worry," Linda chirped, picking the first piece of Kelly's armor off the table, "Take it easy, John."

Kelly stuck out her leg for Linda to tend to, of course having no issues with balance. She then turned her attentions to John.

"That Mark VII of yours is some real work. I do admit I'm jealous."

John smirked.

"We're not the only ones getting suited up early," Kelly continued.

"Oh? I don't recall any orders being given."

"It was on their own initiative. Sergeant Kilburn and the Corporal she's befriended; I saw them leaving here just a while ago – the Corporal's wearing just the fatigues, but that girl is ready for war. She's just missing a rifle," Kelly shifted to her other foot, for Linda worked fast, "She's nervous if you ask me. There's no other reason for it."

"It's normal for marines to have the jitterbug, don't be so harsh." Frederic said flatly, "If something happens unexpectedly, the Sergeant will have a leg up on everyone else."

"Don't know what's good about a single marine, if you ask me," Kelly shook her head, "A group of them with a good leader, well, yes. But one on their own is just like a cow separated from the herd: stands there in the middle of the field, chewing its cud, and runs like hell when something scares it."

John said nothing, allowing Kelly to express her theories. He couldn't be sure if she was taking a personal stab at Renee or just bashing the marines in general.

"Someone like that comes about once in a blue moon," Linda pointed out, "Most marines know what they're doing – in most situations, anyway. Alone or in a group." She looked to John, "Didn't you say Sergeant Kilburn was made squad commander?"

John nodded subtly, knowing that Kelly would have something to say about it.

"Squad commander?" Kelly echoed, raising a brow, "I heard about her little fit she took on Sanghelios at the sight of an Elite. And it's the Brutes we have to worry about! I hope the members of her squad have heard. I'd sure like to know if I were them, and I'd request that something be done about it."

"Dr. Halsey's seen to her; she'll be fine." John said matter-of-factly.

"Of course," Kelly quipped, and left it at that.

John exchanged glances with Fred, who twitched his mouth into a subtle grin.

"Here, I'll help you get into your armor," he offered, "It assembles the same as ours, I assume?"

* * *

On the bridge, things were quiet. Lord Hood had gone for a rest, leaving Captain Willenbrock in temporary charge of things. There wouldn't be much to do, Hood had assured him when Willenbrock had opened his mouth to protest – the bridge technicians knew what they had to do, and Cortana would keep him company.

Willenbrock reclined in one of the chairs, looking out the glass viewing area to the fiery red surface of Sanghelios. Thick clouds were abundant, however, the Sangheili city and the vast black mountains beyond it were faintly visible. It was a fascinating world in its peaceful state. He had thoroughly enjoyed the meeting with the Arbiter, however serious the situation was becoming. The Sangheili had always interested him as a species, both when they were the enemy and when they became allies. Their political views were intriguing, their military exemplary.

"Not getting sleepy I hope, Captain."

The female voice startled him, and Willenbrock spun the chair to see the AI Cortana had finally appeared on her holographic panel.

"Oh, no," He said, feeling odd speaking to an artificial intelligence, "I was just admiring the view."

Cortana pivoted to look at Sanghelios.

"Nice, isn't it?" she remarked, "I never thought I'd get to see it for myself."

"That makes two of us," Willenbrock smirked.

"Forgive me, I've read your file out of curiosity," Cortana began, "I must say you are quite accomplished for what few years you have behind you."

"Thank you – although it's nothing compared to some others onboard. The Master Chief for example."

"Chief is in a league all on his own, that's for certain."

Willenbrock nodded, returning his gaze to Sanghelios once more – but almost immediately something caught his eye. Dark figures started to appear through the clouds, descending down from atmosphere. All at once they seemed to break free of the red haze, and what must have been forty Phantom dropships appeared. For what seemed like forever, Willenbrock stared – the realization creeping up on him that the dropships did _not_ belong to the Sangheili.

"Captain!" Cortana cried sharply, "I'm detecting numerous Phantom dropships – they… are not with the Elites… they're heading to the surface."

Willenbrock felt his chest tighten and had to suck in a shaky breath.

"Captain!" The AI near screamed when he didn't respond, "Orders!"

His throat was dry when he croaked the three words:

"Sound the alarm."

**A/N: **Been busy with uni and army work, but I always find time to update. Enjoy as always! -AB


	43. Out of the Frying Pan

**Chapter 43: Out of the Frying Pan…**

**18****th**** December 2553 – UNSC Bridgetown / Planet of Sanghelios**

The alarms blared hauntingly throughout the ship, the amber lights flashing their warning. All at once everyone on board had a job to do and was rushing to do it. Renee and Corporal Greene were jogging at a light pace through the halls, brushing past other people. They had both come from the armory where they had retrieved their necessary gear. Although every person aboard the ship had been well aware of an upcoming conflict, it seemed as if none of them had been counting on it to happen today. Despite the orders of "All personnel to battle stations", there were a lot of questions unanswered. As the Sergeant and the Corporal weaved their way through the throngs of people towards the docking bay, various inquiries could be heard. Everyone wanted to know the exact reason why they were being called to battle-stations. They were thousands of light-years from Earth and in-atmosphere of an alien planet. The speculations by the less-informed were no doubt endless.

"Goddamn it, John was right," Renee mumbled under her breath, glancing to the signs on the floor-plates that were directing her towards the correct destination. She could still become lost in the endless hallways. John had said that something was going to happen so soon – but not even she had expected it to be _this _soon.

"Say somethin', Sarge?" Greene asked.

"I was just saying how the Chief was right! He knew shit was going down!"

At that moment, the ship was shaken. Vibrations pulsed through it and a large groan was emitted from the hull. There was a terrifying split-second as all the lights went out; leaving all those on board plunged in darkness. Renee, suddenly blind, stifled a scream – for others could be heard not far away. However, the lights flickered back to life, and Renee exhaled deeply, and met Greene's eyes. She knew whatever just happened wasn't good, and she could tell by Greene's expression that it he knew, too.

"We were just fired upon," he said, shaking his head, "Plasma torpedoes or repeaters, whatever they were, they hit us in a tender spot."

"We need to get off the ship," the words flew from Renee's mouth immediately. She could hear the panic in her voice, "Now… we're no good on here… we need to get topside."

"Sergeant!" Greene grabbed her arm tightly, staring into her face with a suddenly determined look, "Keep your head in the game! Remember what Chief said? You're no use to anybody if you panic. Alright?" He smacked the top of her helmet with encouragement, "Don't lose it. We got this. Semper fi."

"Semper fi." Renee forced a nervous smile to come to her face. She was so used to being with the Spartans or the ODSTs that the timeless Marine Corps motto sounded strange coming out of her mouth. She realized she needed to get a grip and quickly. Outranking Greene, she didn't want to come off as unreliable.

"If the lights go again we've got our HUDs and our eyes won't take long to adjust."

Greene jinxed it. The lights flickered again and went out – this time, they weren't resurrected seconds later.

"Corporal…" Renee started, blinking into the darkness. She extended her hand out in front of her and continued walking, albeit slightly more cautiously. She cursed under her breath.

"Yeah, I know. This isn't cool." Greene's voice was close behind her, "I don't recall this happening in all my years. I feel like a fuckin' tunnel-dwelling rodent."

Through the blackness, Renee could hear heavy footsteps on the floor plates approaching them. Her HUD informed her it was friendly – and she guessed that by the heaviness of the steps, the person approaching was a Spartan.

The figure rounded the corner and for a second, almost blinded them with the lights beaming from their helmet. Squinting, Renee saw it was indeed a Spartan- although she couldn't tell who.

"Blind as bats, aren't you two?" she recognized the voice to be that of Frederic-104, "The lights will be back up soon, I just spoke to the Chief. The ship was hit by a plasma torpedo which inflicted serious but non-threatening damage, mainly to the power system. You're heading in the right direction, marines. Docking bay isn't far. They've got some backup lights in there so it's not as bad."

"Any other details to share, sir?" Greene asked as the Spartan went past them.

"Nothing that you won't hear in a few minutes," he replied – and in a few quick steps he was gone.

* * *

John stood on the bridge with Lord Hood, Captain Willenbrock, Captain Dare and several other higher-ranking officials. Cortana was silent, for she was taking care of manning the ships' defense systems and working on repairing the damages done to the power system. Only one side of the ship had power, leaving one side defenseless and in the dark. The bridge had been lucky and still retained power. Drop ships from a Jiralhanae-manned CCS battle cruiser had gotten a few lucky shots on the way past the _Bridgetown_, however the battle cruiser itself had yet to make any form of engagement.

"Those drop ships were taking troops to the ground," Lord Hood had declared moments earlier, "That means we must get ours topside quickly to help the Sangheili defenses." Hood had arrived to the bridge quickly once Willenbrock had announced the orders of all personnel to battle-stations. He had even been light-hearted enough to crack a joke that "of course something would happen while I was asleep". John-117 arrived not soon after, all-serious and clad fully in his MJOLNIR armor.

"We are to follow the orders discussed earlier," Hood confirmed, glancing to John and Dare. That meant marines and Spartans deployed first. ODSTs second if things were looking particularly bad, "Cortana, how are things coming along?"

"They're coming, sir," she replied, "Power should be fully restored in less than ten minutes. The damage is extensive but not threatening - those bastards with their hit and run tactics."

"Good."

"I don't trust that battle cruiser," John declared. He was standing motionless off to the side, staring at the numerous holographic screens – half of which weren't working, but one gave him clear view of the ship.

"They would be stupid to attack our flag-ship," Hood assured him, "Our boys would be on 'em quicker than flies to a pile of horse shit."

Cortana laughed lightly. Dare smirked, looking from Hood to John.

"He's right, Chief. They're outnumbered."

"I highly doubt it's the only one," John remained negative and cautious. He pivoted on his heel to face Lord Hood, coming to attention, "If everything is under control here, permission to proceed to the docking bay, sir."

"Yes, of course."

"You're forgetting someone, John," Cortana chirped, "If you would wait for a moment, I think I could provide you with more help on the ground than here on the bridge…" she looked to Hood, "If that's alright with you, sir."

"Be my guest, Cortana."

"Almost fixed…. The power should be…. Ah! There. Restored. Yank me."

John took a few steps forward and reached forward and removed Cortana's chip from the holographic panel and slapped it in the back of his helmet. For a moment he felt like he was doused in cold water, and then heard Cortana's voice:

"Good to be back."

* * *

Renee and Greene were still making their ways through the halls when the power was restored. Ahead of them about three meters was a sign on the floor plates saying "Docking Bay". They both sighed a sigh of relief.

"Thank God," Renee said aloud. Those few moments of walking through the blackness had allowed her mind to run wild. Frederic-104 not willing to disclose information of any sort when they had run into him made her uneasy. It had tossed her visions of Brutes coming through the halls to meet them, picking off anything with the lack of night vision. She had imagined the ship on fire, lurching down towards the surface of Sanghelios, doomed to a fatal crash. At the same time she had tried to fight off these imaginings with thoughts of landing on Sanghelios ready and confident for battle. She could picture lifting her assault rifle up, hugging it to her shoulder and resting her cheek on the cool butt-stock; taking a steady aim, squeezing the trigger, sending a three-to-five round burst in the direction of a Brute's head.

Greene's enthusiasm ripped her from her thoughts.

"Hopefully that's the last time that'll…"

She was quick to cut him off.

"Don't jinx us again, Greene." She grinned slightly, picking up the pace, "I don't know if I believe much in 'Luck of the Irish' anymore."

"Hey now, it's got nothing to do with luck," Greene retorted, "Civvy-side, come with me to a casino and I'll show ya luck. It carries through in battle too – mind you. Consider me your four-leaf clover. I've got stories; remind me to tell you some sometime."

Renee and Greene entered the docking bay, and were treated to a bustling sight of hundreds of marines, pilots and other technicians mulling around Warthogs, Gauss 'hogs, Longswords and Pelicans. Some squads had found each other and were formed up, at ease, impressively under orders of the squad commanders. Others just clustered around their designated ride to the surface, sitting, standing, shooting the shit.

Greene's face lit up with a sarcastic bear-toothed grin.

"Hurry up and wait," he announced, descending down towards the Pelicans. Renee followed along, searching for armor-clad Spartans who would be standing a head above the rest. She knew the ODSTs wouldn't be here. The Helljumper drop pods were located in a separate location somewhere in the ship. Realizing this, she felt a bit of disappointment. Their shenanigans would be just what she needed to give her that last little bit of encouragement. She recalled Buck's words however – she wouldn't want to see them dropping into atmosphere.

"Ah, there's our squad, right over there!" Greene pointed out, gesturing to his left. Renee looked and sure enough, she recognized a few faces from when she and Greene had been to introduce themselves. Most of them were younger than she – in their twenties or early thirties. They were a varied lot, however. Some were the stereotypical hard-ass marines with shaved heads, lots of muscle and tattoos. Others could be clearly identified as greenhorns, fit, yet lanky with readable expressions that declared "I'm new at this game". There was one female marine in the squad, in her early twenties, who in a way reminded Renee of herself in 2535.

Remembering she was the squad commander, she quickened her pace so that she walked aside Greene instead of behind him. One of the troops saw them approaching and said something to the others. They all jumped to their feet or straightened their postures.

"I don't have any orders; don't get too excited, troops," Renee informed them when she was close enough for them to hear. Upon hearing this, they relaxed, "It's another case of hurry up and wait."

This roused a few chuckles. Greene spotted one of the marines chewing on a wad of gum.

"Whatsyername, Private?" he asked, not even waiting for him to respond, "Get that gum outa yer mouth 'til we're topside. Swallow it or whatever you need to do. You look like a goddamned cow."

"Yes, Corporal," the marine responded, looking somewhat intimidated. Renee and Greene could instantly tell he was one of the newer guys.

"Sergeant?" The questions started.

"What?" Renee looked to one of the taller men, a Lance Corporal, who had a visible tattoo of a cross on his neck.

"Just curious, how many battles have you fought in?"

"Enough," she answered coolly. Her response roused a muted chuckle from Greene.

"Sergeant?" Another marine, the same Private who had been chewing on his gum, spoke up.

Renee looked to him, acknowledging him to speak with a slight nod.

"Are you an ODST?"

"Does my uniform _say _I'm an ODST?" she gestured to the insignia on her sleeve that clearly said UNSCMC.

"No, Sergeant."

"Then I'm not an ODST." Renee glanced to Greene, her expression bewildered, shaking her head slightly. Greene couldn't wipe the smile off his face. This took her back to her basic training where troops had thrown endless stupid questions at the instructors during Week 1.

"Jesus Christ guys, you got the jitterbug or what? The questions! Really," Greene spoke up in Renee's defense.

Renee caught a movement out of the corner of her eye, and turned her head. She saw a Spartan approaching her, and just by his walk she could tell it was John. Coming to attention, she properly saluted. She heard Greene and the others come to attention behind her.

"Master Chief, sir," she greeted him.

"Sergeant," John replied, and with a slight gesture of his head, Renee knew he wanted her to come with him. They walked only a few short paces away. Greene looked to the squad and saw their eyes were all glued in curiosity at Renee and the Spartan. He thought about telling them to stop eyeballing, but let it slide.

"The questions they're asking me already!" Renee let all formalities slide, glancing back at her squad, before looking up at John, "I never knew promotion to Sergeant would make me such a celebrity. One of them asked me if I was an ODST."

John chuckled slightly.

"You can't really get mad at them for that," he pointed out, "You survived the power outage ok I take it."

"Wandered through the halls blind for about five minutes but got to where I was going," she shrugged, "The damage isn't life-threatening?"

He shook his head.

"What exactly is going out there, John? We ran into Frederic in the dark but he wouldn't say."

"The Brutes have arrived and they have deployed some troops to the ground. The call for us to go will be any minute. The power outage caused a minor delay. It's all fixed now."

Renee nodded contemplatively, feeling a twinge of nervousness in her stomach. She knew John would be able to read her expression quite easily. She studied his armor, titanium alloy complete with energy shields to reflect plasma beams, invisibility cloaking when he needed it, an incredibly advanced HUD. She found herself longing to be wearing something similar. The marine armor had not changed much since 2535. The armor chest plating was a little thicker and armor plates covered more of the extremities, but the changes were subtle and you couldn't take a shot anywhere without it impeding you in some shape or form.

"I would feel a lot safer if I was with you and the ODSTs again," she confessed, her voice low.

"I'll try to come by and scout you out when I can, to make sure everything is fine," John told her, putting a heavy hand on her shoulder, "Remember my advice. It's all I can give when I'm not right beside you. Whatever happens, keep your head on straight and don't let pessimism grab a hold of you. And you will find out the Sangheili are good to have around when they're fighting on your side – trust me."

"You're right, I know you are." She said, glancing back towards her squad. Greene was telling something encouraging to the others, "It's all mental." She exhaled, "Promise me you won't do anything stupid out there, okay?"

"As long as you promise me the same."

Renee knew without having to see his face that he would have that subtle smirk on his lips.

"Promise."

"Promise."

The words had just left their mouths when the announcement they had all been waiting for came over the loudspeakers. John moved his head slightly in the direction of the nearest speaker, not listening to the words for he knew what they'd be.

"It's time," he said, reaching out to her, holding his hand open. She slipped her hand in his, feeling the slight resistance of his armor's shields. He squeezed it moderately, giving a her a single nod as he dropped the volume of his voice, "Good luck Renee."

"You too, John." Renee said. He withdrew his hand from hers, and as he stepped away, she whispered, knowing he'd hear her without issue, "I love you."

Her headset crackled as he switched to a private COM channel for just a moment. His voice was low in her ear:

"Love you."

He switched off, and she watched him walk away without giving her a second glance.

"Sergeant!" It was Greene. Renee looked back over her shoulder to see her squad was piling into the back hatch of a Pelican. He didn't have to say anymore. She jogged over, and jumped in, taking the seat nearest to the hatch, setting her assault rifle across her lap to buckle herself in. The troop compartment shook as the Pelican's engines roared to life. Greene got himself situated across from Renee, and gave her an assuring nod, which she returned.

"You and the Spartan friends, Sergeant?" the female marine, Kowalski, asked over the sound of the engines. Here came the nonsensical pre-battle banter that everyone relied on to try and make themselves feel better about the forthcoming situation. Renee momentarily considered ignoring her, but after a moment she nodded.

"You could say that. We've known each other for a long time." Renee left it at that, and looked across to Greene and he smiled slightly. Renee leaned her head back, trying to relax, but her body was tense. She had no idea what was coming – but she knew, that since speaking to John she had a little extra bit of confidence that she hadn't had before.

* * *

The Pelican touched ground and the back hatch swung open to hit the ground with a thud. Renee, Greene and the rest of the squad were on their feet and bailing out, assault rifles at the ready. They were struck with the hot humid Sangheili air as they landed in the red sand, the Pelican's thrusters kicking much of it airborne. Renee suppressed a cough, thinking quickly, surveying the situation. They had landed on the outskirts of the strange, looming Sangheili city. Dry grass, dunes of red sand, and severe black rocks were abundant. In the distance human and Covenant weapons could be heard firing. All around her other troops were piling out Pelicans and running. She saw a red flash of plasma soar through the air in front of her – knew it wouldn't take long. It was soon followed by others – of course they would be fired upon.

"Get to cover!" She screamed, catching sight of a large cluster of rocks that hadn't been yet occupied. She bolted forward, hearing cries, both human and deep roars that she guessed belonged to the Brutes as they begin to tear through the air as shots from both sides hit their targets. Cocking her weapon as she ran, she spotted a Brute, about twenty meters away, and aimed at it without thinking. She fired several controlled bursts – which struck it in the chest. She was able to watch it stagger, and then she was behind cover, sliding to her knees in the sand. Whipping around, she counted her squad as they arrived behind her. Everyone made it unscathed.

"Multiple targets!" She announced, peeking up over the rock to see numerous Brutes ducking in and out of cover, firing at anything human, or Sangheili. Sangheili – she hadn't seen any of them yet. "10 to 1 o'clock! Short controlled bursts – watch your arcs! On your own time, go on!"

She was echoing what she'd heard multiple times before. Assault rifle fire filled her ears as the squad quickly responded to her orders, eager to get into the fight. She watched Greene duck to avoid a plasma beam directed at his head. Renee's adrenaline was soaring, but at the same time, the assault rifle in her hands made her feel slightly calmer than she would've expected. She raised and aimed, hugging the assault rifle in close, her shoulder vibrating with the recoil as she fired at a Brute who was moving forward towards their position. Its shields sparked and flickered, it let out an animalistic roar in frustration, so desperate to make it further ahead. It returned fire in her general direction. Renee tapped the trigger again and her assault rifle spat out another five rounds. Plasma beams streaked past her – close enough that she could feel the heat. She watched as her shots hit target, diminishing the Brute's shields and piercing through its armor. A fountain-like spray of blood emerged from its throat where a bullet had undoubtedly gone clean through. Renee couldn't help the smile that came to her face as she watched it stagger to the ground, choking.

"Sergeant!" Greene's voice was a yell – and Renee felt a hand clamp onto her shoulder and jerked her backwards. There was a flash and her face stung, and next thing she knew she was on her back in the sand.

Greene was over her.

"Holy shit!" he shouted, bewildered.

"What?" Renee demanded.

"You almost took _that _to the fucking face!" He gestured behind her, and Renee twisted around to see a plasma burn that had struck a rock three meters away. She gaped, turning back to Greene.

"Thank you!"

"Don't mention it!" he sounded relieved, gave her a smack to the helmet and turned back to the firefight, pausing to reload a new magazine.

Renee pulled herself up off the ground, more cautious this time to keep her head down. She had to make sure not to do that again. She shook her head, still feeling the heat on her cheek where the plasma bolt had just missed her, not wanting to think of how close she had been to having her face melted away. The experience had shaken her – she owed Greene her life already and they hadn't even been on the ground for five minutes.

Taking a peek once more over their cover, Renee saw a couple of Brutes had already fallen – but felt dread wash over her when she saw a couple of Jackals slinking into sight, protected behind their shields. She hadn't expected them to be here.

"Jackals at eleven o'clock!" she shouted, "Direct your fire at their shields, don't let them any fuckin' closer! Watch for snipers!"

She looked to Greene, who seemed to be scouting the area for any signs already.

"Do you think there'll be any?" she asked him, ducking behind the rock, resting her face against it; it was disgustingly hot. She could feel sweat rolling down her face, her hair already sticking to her scalp. Thirst was going to be a problem. This seemed much like a nightmare. The reddish haze that enveloped everything was surreal. The mountains in the distance, no doubt volcanic, rivaled anything on Earth, their sharp, severe looking peaks made for a hellish horizon. The blood-red sand was so fine that it made movement difficult and footing uncertain. Muzzle flashes and plasma beams seemed to glow with a strange intensity.

What in the _hell _were they here for?

"I wouldn't doubt it for one minute," Greene answered, "We've got snipers too, though."

"How many, and where are they?" she questioned.

"Not sure."

"There are times I wish I was a higher rank than a Sergeant." Renee took a couple of shots at Brutes in the distance. They were standoffish but not overly aggressive – yet anyway. From what she was gathering the humans' presence on Sanghelios was surprising and unwanted – an annoyance in the way of their ultimate objective, which she assumed was to reign hell on the entire Sangheili planet and its inhabitants. It reminded her much of the early days of the Human-Covenant war, hardly anyone knew what exactly was going on – they just had orders to kill or be killed, an unnerving ultimatum where the choice was easily decided.

"Have you seen the Spartans?" she was putting Greene through question period. Her mind was everywhere, rattled slightly with her close encounter with death minutes before, the uncertainty of everything happening. The adrenaline rushing through her veins was certainly having an effect, too.

To this Greene shook his head, looking glum. His face suddenly sparked to life however, when he glanced behind her – his eyes widening and his mouth falling open. Renee heard an inhuman growl from behind her, and whipped around, raising her weapon – and saw herself looking into the face of an Elite. It was crouched low to the ground to avoid the fire, its golden reptilian eyes meeting hers in almost questioning. It titled its head to the side, saying something in its alien tongue. Renee froze – her finger off the trigger, although there was a twinge in her body that was telling her to pull it. The Elite, who obviously didn't speak any English, lifted its head slightly to peer over the rock, surveying the scene. In its hand it had a plasma rifle. It looked back to Renee, Greene and the rest of their squad that had quickly realized their alien company, and gestured with its head.

_Follow me_, it was saying.

"Follow you?" Renee spoke aloud, her voice shaking. She was trying to remain calm. This wasn't the enemy, she told herself, this wasn't the enemy anymore.

The Elite gave a nod, and without waiting for her confirmation, whipped around, and still staying crouched, dashed rather quickly, away from the battle scene and in the direction of the Sangheili city. Renee glanced back over her shoulder to Greene, her expression bewildered, but he gave her a shove:

"Follow it, Sarge!"

"Let's go, keep your head down!" Renee said. She counted to three in her head, then got up, and bolted in the direction the Elite had gone. Her footing was uncertain on the sand as she approached rather rugged looking buildings of the familiar alien architecture.

Realizing she'd lost sight of the Elite, she was about to stop, however a four-fingered hand clamped onto her arm and yanked her into an alleyway. It was a dark, misty red haze, but Renee could see several Elites clustered around in a semi-circle, the plasma brewing in the muzzles of their plasma rifles illuminating them in a strange way. She heard Greene and the others enter the alleyway behind her.

A million things were running through her mind. Although she held her assault rifle casually, she was ready to bring it up in defense in a split second. Why were these Elites seeking out her squad? Renee stared at the Elites in silence, her chest feeling tight with anticipation. Did any of them speak English? Or were they just going to stand here and stare at one another, the only certainty known between them being their enemy? Of course, her squad was deathly silent, even Greene. For many of them she realized this was the first time being within several feet of Elites and not having the order to kill them.

Finally, when a sufficient amount of awkward seconds ticked by, one of the Elites stepped forward, making himself clearer – and due to his unique armor, Renee recognized him immediately.

"I want to apologize for the last time we met, Sergeant. It was unfortunate you were unable to continue attending the talks." It was the Arbiter himself. He was cool and collected, as if he was unaware that there was a battle being fought several hundred meters away.

"Arbiter," Renee addressed him, finally finding her voice. She felt slightly surreal speaking English to an alien. She remembered their meeting a couple of days ago, and how she had suffered the panic attack. She was calmer now, no doubt to the drugs currently in her system, "Is this a coincidence, or…"

"Only in part," he said, "You and your squad are fit for battle, good to see."

Renee glanced over her shoulder at Greene, shooting him the look for him to step forward. The expression his face was humorous.

"This is Corporal Greene, second in command of our squad." Renee introduced him, "Greene, this is the Arbiter."

"Pleased to meet you; your name ain't an uncommon one with our lot." Greene was friendly enough, but it was pretty clear he wasn't used to talking to Elites, "You and your buddies got any plans on how to deal with them monkeys that just landed here?"

"Tentative plans, but if everything goes well, we should see no reason to change them." Arbiter answered, "Those skirmishes are trivial," he gestured to where he had just taken them from, "The Brutes have a target. It is the government building, which is located in the city center. Without a doubt they want to get there, assassinate me along with several other high ranking officials and gain control over Sanghelios. Come, we will take you further into the city, where you shall join forces with my troops in setting up an effective barricade to prevent the Brutes advance. Lord Hood has likely already been informed on my plans; the Pelicans should already have a different LZ. I have scouts looking for the Spartans, and others will inform your marine squads as they arrive."

"That is the most information we've received since this shit started," Greene remarked.

"We are waiting on Warthogs, if we can get a hold of a couple we could drive to where we need to go," Renee suggested.

"We don't have time." Arbiter said matter-of-factly, "The Brutes will catch on quickly."

Renee nodded, realizing he was right.

Suddenly, a plasma beam was fired in their general direction, causing the Elites and Renee's squad to scatter to either side of the alleyway.

"Sniper fire!" Renee announced. Glancing out towards the city, she spotted the glow of the barrel from a Jackal Sniper, located up on a balcony. She raised her assault rifle, had it in her sights, however, she watched as a figure came up behind it, swiftly jabbed a knife into its head and twisted. Even from where they were, the Jackal's surprised squawk could be heard as death swiftly came to meet it. The armored figure, clouded mostly in shadow, kicked the body from the balcony roughly. The figure, which Renee recognized to be a Spartan, took a leap, following the body from the balcony and landing heavily on the ground next to it.

The Elites and the humans watched this play out in silence. Renee judged by this Spartan's recklessness (jumping off the thirty-foot balcony) that it was John.

"They're already starting to move into the city." The voice that came from within the helmet Renee recognized instantly. It was John. In a few cautious strides he had come into the alley way and towered over everyone, except for the Elites.

"Sniper scouts, soon to be followed by the Brutes themselves," he continued. His armor was splattered with purple blood – it wasn't hard to see that that Jackal hadn't been his first victim.

"You know the plan," Arbiter assumed.

John gave a nod.

"Should work," he told them, "I will be around. Me and my Spartans will see to it that you make it safely through to your destination – then show up ourselves."

"Be careful Chief." Renee spoke up, looking to him.

"Keep your head _down_, Sergeant." His comment led her to believe he'd seen Greene tackle her to the ground to avoid the plasma beam. John would try to have his eye on her the whole time, she realized, even if he wouldn't be close enough to save her. That thought gave her mixed feelings.

She was about to open her mouth to say something, when John's head whipped in the direction of the skirmish.

"Move! Now. I'll cover you." He barked. Whipping up his assault rifle into his shoulder, he stepped into the alleyway and started firing. As Arbiter, the Elites, Renee and the rest of the squad took off down the street, Renee managed to take a glance over her shoulder, to see John up against a couple Brutes, that were approaching him bravely despite the slew of bullets heading their way.

A Brute crossed the distance and threw a fist at John, causing him to stop firing. John blocked the fist and smashed the Brute across the face with the butt of his rifle, then delivered a vicious kick to its chest, staggering it. It collapsed. The other Brute tried to come around behind him, but John spun and kicked the plasma rifle from its hands. Enraged, this Brute let out a roar and tackled John. They grappled, flying back into one of the building walls with a smash. The Brute got a hold of John by the throat, and smashed him again into the wall.

Renee stopped dead in her tracks, feeling intense adrenaline pumping through her veins. She tossed aside her assault rifle, and fumbled to get her M6D pistol from her belt. She aimed quickly for the Brute's head. John, who was struggling against the Brute, was causing the both of them to move around.

"Sergeant!" she heard Greene yell.

Gripping the pistol tight, Renee squeezed the trigger the moment she had the Brute in her sights. Two sharp cracks sounded, one hit the wall in-between John and the Brute, the other hit the Brute, but didn't kill it – but startled it enough to let go of John. John reeled away, without a doubt getting his breath, and she could see he was looking in her direction.

The Brute bellowed out a roar of anger, seeing her. It started to walk towards her, its intent clear. Keeping her weapon raised, Renee headed towards it as well. _Crack_. _Crack. Crack. _Three more shots into the Brute's torso. It staggered with each one. The Brute was two feet from her now. Calmly, she raised her pistol a little higher, aiming right between its red eyes. It opened its mouth to roar with fury, raising its fist back.

"Oh, shut the fuck up." She said, pulling the trigger. Blood hit her in the face. The Brute dropped dead. She watched it hit the ground, and then looked back over her shoulder at her squad and the Elites, who had all stopped to watch the scene unfold. No one said a word.

She exhaled, lowering her pistol, putting her gaze back to John, who was standing not too far away. She knew without having to see his face what his expression would be. She let a small smile come to her face.

Her headset crackled as John opened a private COM channel.

"Renee. What was that?"

"Me paying you back for all the times you saved _my _ass."

"I had it under control. You could've been killed."

"But I wasn't. Think I can handle myself a little better than you originally suspected?" She watched him as he picked his assault rifle off the ground. For a moment, John looked like he didn't know what to do with himself. He kicked at the dirt, surveying the scene of the two dead bodies.

"I still can't decide if that was recklessness or bravery."

"Think on it, John. You know what it was."

"Get going. Don't keep the Arbiter and your squad waiting."

"Yes sir."

John gave her one last look over his shoulder, before cutting off the channel and dashing down an alleyway. Renee heaved a sigh, and walked back towards her squad. Everyone was eyeballing her with disbelief. The Elites even looked somewhat impressed.

"Where'd you pull that from?" Greene demanded.

"My ass."

"Quick thinking, Sergeant." One of the marines complemented her.

"Let's go." Renee looked to the Arbiter, who hadn't said a word. He seemed to be intensely analyzing the situation. Finally he nodded.

Off they went.

A/N: Took a while for this to come to be, but voila. Enjoy as always. -AB


	44. Into the Fire

**Chapter 44: Into the Fire**

**18****th**** December 2553 – Planet of Sanghelios**

As the squad of marines and the group of Elites moved further into the city center, the dangers lessened. However they knew that it wouldn't be long before the Brutes would be pushing inward along behind them. There had not been much resistance at the LZ, and as the Arbiter had mentioned, orders had changed. Those who had landed in the middle of the heat would have been given orders by now to begin the trek inward as well. The Brutes would be quick to follow. Renee had noticed a few Pelicans passing overhead, no doubt in the direction of new LZs, closer to the strategic position envisioned by the Arbiter. That Elite must be confident that it would work – to be so quick to fall back close to the objective, for if at any place the Brutes managed to break through the marine and Sangheili defenses, things could get ugly quick. There were Spartans, but even they couldn't make miracles happen.

The squad had been struck into silence since the slaying of the two Brutes and the departure of the Master Chief. The lower ranking marines had been delivered a double-whammy, both realizing within short periods of time the capability of their squad commander, and what sort of conflict they had been dropped in the midst of. Confidence among the group still ran strong, strengthened by the ballsy point-blank-range execution of the Brute by Sergeant Kilburn. The knowledge that the Spartans wouldn't be far away, darting about the alleys and rooftops like green poltergeists, too assisted in the mood of things.

The whole scene seemed surreal, like a dream - walking through a strangely empty metropolitan alien city, following a band of Sangheili through the red haze, the sputters and clatter of distant gunfire whispering through the streets behind them. But, could one possibly conceive such a dream? It was a long shot.

Renee was developing a tolerance for the humid climate. The sweat rolling down her face was no longer a bother. Her mind was racing, much like her heartbeat, but she was, strangely in a place of calm. She was in the perfect element – a mind-frame that she thought she no longer possessed – that of a soldier. She was still being fuelled by the adrenaline rush from earlier; it was almost as fresh as the memory of putting a bullet in the Brute's skull. She didn't feel the weight of her body armor, the helmet no longer was an annoyance. Her grip on her assault rifle was sure, her finger resting just above the trigger, at the ready. She was aware of her squad around her, aware of the Sangheili leading the way.

The city was quiet, almost too quiet. They had seen the occasional Sangheili civilian dart across a street or into a doorway, but they were scared and wanted nothing to do with the current conflict. The civilian Sangheili looked strange wearing clothed garments as opposed to the military armor that Renee had been so used to seeing them in. When she had spotted the first one, it took her a moment to register it was the same species. One of them had stopped to bow at the sight of the Arbiter, but it was only for a second to receive the Arbiter's acknowledgement before they were gone back into safety. Their similarity to human civilians – the desire for peace and their attempts to dissociate themselves from violence earned some sympathy from Renee. Not all of these Sangheili were murderous, blood-thirsty monsters; it was almost shocking to contemplate initially, but healing. She needed positive examples of their species.

Ahead at one-o'clock, Renee spotted smaller Sangheili dart into the street from an alley. Seeing their group approaching, instead of running, they stopped and stared. As she walked closer, Renee realized these were Sangheili children. Miniatures, she mused. Standing at only five feet tall compared to the towering eight or nine feet the adults reached, the younglings had a gangly, disproportionate look about them, lacking the most of the defined musculature of the adults. They observed the group, the marines in especially, in passing with their black beady little eyes, with curiosity.

One of the young focused in particular on Renee, and took a step toward her. Holding her breath, she tightened her grip on her assault rifle, observing this one brave young Sangheili. Why didn't it approach Greene or one of the others instead? She couldn't help the slight spike in her heart rate – although her prescription drugs indeed were helping any sort of encounters with Sangheili. There would be no chances of further panic attacks, she was certain of that much. Kilburn noticed out of the corner of her eye the Arbiter and the other Sangheili had stopped to observe the one particularly brave youngling. Despite it being smaller than the others, it was just as tall – if not a little taller, than the Sergeant. It stopped within two feet of her, not shy of making eye contact.

"Should we…" one of the marines spoke up. A quick glance in his direction showed he was cautious. Kilburn recognized him as being the tallest marine in the group, while his name she hadn't yet remembered she knew his face and had taken note of his ability so far on the battle field. He had shown an excellent example of battle skill. She was about to answer him but Arbiter beat her to it.

"No." Arbiter snapped, "They are just curious. They will cause no harm."

The youngling clicked its mandibles, almost in contemplation, tilting its head to one side as it studied Renee. She was a little nervous of the alien's boldness, fuelled quite plainly by its curiousness, given its age. Could they be similar to human children in that regard, curious of anything new to them? They weren't similar however, when it came to development. This thing, even at its young age was probably much stronger than her, and if it weren't so passive, could be considered a threat. She trusted Arbiter's word, but not as much as she trusted the weapon she held in her hands. She was expecting the best and the worst, however, the worst had priority in her mind. It was too soon for Renee to give the benefit of the doubt to anything Sangheili. It had better not try anything.

She was somewhat surprised when the youngling spoke – said what sounded to be two or three Sangheili words, and held out its hand towards her. Renee looked down and saw there was something shiny in its palm – what looked to be a sort of rough jewel, as if retrieved fresh from chunks of rock. It glittered purplish-red. It took her a moment to realize that the alien wanted her to have this jewel.

Hesitating, Renee held out her hand, not wanting to touch the Sangheili, and allowed it to drop the jewel into her glove. Then it bowed to her and the other marines, before turning and quickly running off in the way it had come – its two youngling friends following it.

Renee was bewildered by what she assumed was an act of kindness, she watched them disappear around a corner before looking down to study the jewel in her palm - it was fascinating. Why on earth did the little Sangheili give her such an item? She heard the marines clustering nearer to try to get a glimpse at what she'd been given.

"Check that out!" Greene sounded as bewildered as she, "Some neat little gem!"

Renee looked to Arbiter, who could tell she and the other marines, were looking for an explanation. She didn't even have to begin to ask.

"It is what we call the _hyssoom_ stone." Arbiter explained, "It can be found in the caves in the mountains just outside of the city. It is a symbol of luck, good virtue, and hope. It is a gift. They say those who carry a _hyssoom _stone with them, are blessed with all that the stone symbolizes. The little one recognized you as the leader of your marines and gave you the stone – so you can be benefitted by its properties and in turn spread it to those you lead."

"What did he say to me?" Renee asked, recalling the guttural mumble that the Sangheili had ejected.

"Thank you," Arbiter translated willingly.

Renee gave a nod, realizing then and there that their presence on the planet was actually valued by the Sangheili citizens, and was touched by the gesture. She took one last look at the stone before putting it into one of her breast pockets.

"Let's continue." Arbiter told them. He seemed uneasy that the group had paused, even for this short amount of time, "We haven't far to go now."

The group continued onward down the street in a quick pace. Overhead, another Pelican soared, this time returning from the direction of the city center. It had undoubtedly finished dropping off troops and was possibly heading back to one of the ships to get more. Gunshots could be heard sporadically in the distance – more-so Covenant weapons than human. Most likely Brute and Elite confrontations – they weren't near enough to pose a threat, yet anyway.

Greene fell in step with Renee, who had fell silent since her confrontation with the young Sangheili.

"That was freaky, in a cool way, Lil Sarge," he remarked, keeping his voice low, "Should've got it on film or something – documentary material. A positive interaction between our species and theirs, good to show people back home who still think they want to kill us."

"I'm still half expecting to wake up and have this be a strange dream," she let out a little chuckle, but other than that didn't really elaborate.

"Can I get a closer look at the gem-thing?"

"Oh. Sure." She dug in her pocket and handed the _hyssoom_ stone to him, "Just be careful, with it, you may be holding our squad's lucky charm."

"So," he held it up, admiring it, "The alien version of a four-leaf clover." He laughed heartily, and Renee joined him, appreciating his light humor.

"Guess so."

"It's really neat. Hope it works," Greene gave it back to her, "If it keeps us all safe, take it back to earth and get a necklace made out of it or something."

"If it works, I'll be finding a Sangheili scout to go find us more so we can all have one," Renee said, "I'm half-serious. They seem to really appreciate our presence here."

"For a second I wasn't sure what those Elites had in mind when they were approaching us," he said, "Definitely wasn't expecting 'em to give us a gift – that's for sure."

"It's good to see something positive arise out of this mess." Renee said gloomily, "Might be first and last thing of the day."

* * *

John dashed through the streets of Sanghelios, keeping to the shadows and alley-ways, although he was moving too fast for any enemies. They might catch a glimpse of him, but by the time they would alert others or take a shot, he'd be long gone without a trace. This was the first time that John was able to give his new armor a fairly good run-in. It worked seamlessly in sync with his body, his movements were smooth and graceful and sure. His updated HUD was brilliant, providing him with all the necessary information about the area and his suit that he needed. His shields were fully charged, having only taken a bash during that hand-to-hand conflict with the Brute earlier, and they had recharged in seconds. He had even tried out his invisibility cloaking to successfully assassinate a lone Brute that had got separated from its group. His armor worked wonderfully, and he knew that he could depend on it. He hadn't taken a plasma bolt yet, although he remembered Lord Hood bragging that the armor could withstand a few of them before taking any physical damage. Four staggered ones to the extremities would take down the shields completely, but with two direct to the torso would take them down faster and require a few extra seconds recharge time. That could be dangerous – he would have to watch himself, but with his old armor, one full-on hit with plasma was big-trouble – and potentially deadly if his shields had been down prior. Due to this, he hadn't made it a habit to get hit by plasma bolts.

He was running through Sanghelios in a 180-degree arcing pattern around the perimeters of the city center. He had received the new orders from Lord Hood himself over intercom, who had received those from the Arbiter. John knew it was as much Arbiter's war as it was his own and although at first was thrown off by such a fall-back tactic, he knew he should trust him. The Arbiter knew the city better than any of the marines or the Brutes did, and he knew that the city center needed to be defended better than any other area. John was listening off-and-on to the communications from the _Bridgetown _between Lord Hood, Captain Willenbrock and the Sangheili forces. Hood, for the past half-hour was trying to coordinate an evacuation of the Sangheili government building and all the important Sangheili officials within, suggesting that they be taken aboard the _Bridgetown. _The Sangheili had to take this suggestion and explain it to their higher-ranking military officials and the Arbiter himself. News was coming through now from the Sangheili side that they believed an extraction would only be necessary if the defences around the government building fell. Lord Hood was trying to convince them otherwise.

John switched intercoms to the com-channel shared between all the Spartans. For a moment, there was radio-silence. This wasn't uncommon, for most of the Spartans were quiet and didn't abuse the com-channels unless they absolutely needed to contact their fellow soldiers. Fred-104, who had been fairly chatty on the com-channels so far, broke the silence, speaking to Kelly-087.

_"Blue 3 this is Blue 2, watch those Jackals near your position. Blue 4 has got a lot of backs to watch, she's currently helping out the SIIIs and a group of marines, over."_

_"Copy that Blue 2, over."_

_ "Blue 4, this is Blue 2. Status, over."_ Blue 4 was Linda-058, John remembered. Over the radio, he himself was Blue 1. He, so far, had only made use of his com-channel twice. Linda's response came back in a whisper – she must be in a sniping position.

_"Blue 4 is green, Blue 2, over."_

For the amount of enemies reported, John knew the Spartans hadn't run into any sort of trouble so far. They were all reporting successful kills and no casualties. He had caught news of several marine causalities, but no confirmed KIAs. He was sure however, with the Jackal Snipers, there had been some UNSC deaths that he might not have caught on com-channels. The Spartan III's were having very little problems – one of them had been slightly wounded but nothing that couldn't be fixed with biofoam, Fred-104 had reported. So far the conflict on Sanghelios appeared to be a series of skirmishes. The Brutes, if they were capable of leading a well-organized and destructive offensive, hadn't yet shown it.

John thought of the event that had happened earlier with Renee's squad of marines and the Arbiter. It was coincidental that the Arbiter would choose her squad out of the many that were present in that initial skirmish to begin the trek inward to the city center. The Sergeant seemed to be doing well so far, and her point-blank execution of the Brute, he had to admit, came as bit of a surprise. Her fear of Elites must have dwindled considerably with the help of the SSRI drugs that Halsey had prescribed her; she seemed calmer and much more clear-headed. There hadn't been much time for Renee to adapt to them prior to the call into battle so John speculated she may yet experience some side-effects. He barely remembered those first few rocky days adapting to the drugs. It seemed so far away now.

He hadn't needed Renee's help, although she instinctively intervened seeing him in trouble – or so John liked to think. He had been getting close to worming his way from the Brute's grip when she had distracted it. Her new confidence was mainly because of the weapon in her hand, John speculated – that and she obviously felt she had to put forth a good example for her squad members in order to help boost their respect for her leadership. Renee had always had that streak in her to lead, but John had doubted it when he had learned of her assignment to be squad commander. So far, however, she had proved herself able to keep people alive – including herself, which was a relief.

The initial landing skirmish had been hot – but Renee and her squad had been pulled out by the Arbiter, and now, like all marine troops, were moving inward to defend the supposedly vital city center. Kelly, who had been doing a bit of dashing around herself, had announced earlier over the intercom that several marine squads had arrived in the city center and had begun setting up reinforcements - turreted 50 calibre machine guns, sandbags and barbed wire barricades, with one Scorpion tank on its way and overhead support, including possible artillery strikes.

Unless the Brutes were packing more of a punch than everyone expected, John figured this conflict would last maybe a few days at most, with the UNSC and the Elites coming out victorious. The power the UNSC had alone with John and his Spartans being present was almost enough to guarantee the victory.

Ahead 200m on his HUD John saw red blips indicating enemies, which caused him to slow from his light jog and duck into an alleyway. He startled a group of Sangheili civilians, who had, for whatever reason been in the area. They barely looked at him before disappearing within a building rather quietly.

John peeked around the corner and saw the enemies in question were Elites. Instantly, he ducked back and realized there must be a technical malfunction with his HUD. Elites weren't the enemies here.

"Cortana," he spoke, "What's…"

"I don't know." She answered immediately, "Your HUD system seems to be working fine. I'll run further diagnostics."

"There isn't time. I need to keep moving."

"Be careful, Chief. Don't just run out there. Your HUD could be right."

John, with his assault rifle at the ready, slowly stepped out from the alleyway. He could see the Elites, and he was in clear sight of them. They were wearing rags and belts, and carrying what looked to be energy swords. Upon seeing him, they took a hostile stance, growling something in their alien tongue.

"Translate Cortana," John snapped, not letting his gun fall, approaching them ever so slowly.

"Heretic. They're calling you… ally of the heretic."

Something clicked in John's head. Sanghelios had been involved in a civil conflict prior to the issue with the Brutes. There had been rebels who wanted Arbiter and anyone associated with him killed. He should've guessed that there would be stragglers still left alive.

John wasn't used to communicating with enemies. Should he even try? The Elites in question seemed hesitant, watching him approach them slowly with malice in their eyes. One of them clicked its mandibles angrily, strings of drool dripping from its jaws as it spoke again.

Then – what John was waiting for. It brandished its energy sword, and activated it, the silvery-blue energy blade gleaming to life. John flicked the safety off his assault rifle, and didn't even wait for the Elite to charge. He tapped the trigger twice, two three-to-five-round bursts sputtered from the barrel and struck the unarmoured Elite in the chest. Purple blood sprayed from the wounds and it collapsed. In a split-second John had his sights on the other Elite, delivering it the same fate.

In less than five seconds both of them were on the ground dead. Unarmoured and without shields, they hadn't stood a chance.

"I think this might've got slightly more complicated," Cortana commented, "Your HUD was right after all. They were rebels. Against the Arbiter… against us. We might have more than just the Brutes and the Jackals to worry about."  
"Hm." John remarked, approaching their bodies to confirm they were dead. He would have to warn the other Spartans. Switching on the com-channel, he spoke: "_Blue team and Red team this is Sierra 117, looks like we may have a further problem. Just encountered two rebel Elites with energy swords. Keep an eye out, trust your instincts over your HUD, over and out_."

"I'll communicate to the _Bridgetown_ so they can spread the word to the marines," Cortana said, "If there are more rebels out there, this could lead to deaths on our side quickly. They could think the Elites are friendly until it's too late. Even _we _thought your HUD was malfunctioning."  
John instantly thought of Renee and her squad, but they were with the Arbiter, who could easily identify the rebels from the friendlies. They would be safer than anyone else, he figured. That was a comforting notion.

He sensed the complications starting to brew in this conflict were only the beginning. John couldn't recall any sort of conflict in which he had been involved running smoothly without some surprise twist or turn. Most times, situations had gone straight to hell. He operated well in a hellish environment, for it had pretty much described the whole Halo events. The other Spartans weren't far behind him; they were no strangers to oddities and hellish outcomes.

* * *

The city center, particularly surrounding the government building, had built up fast. When 3 squad arrived, Renee saw that several platoons of marines had already stationed machine gun turrets and sandbag fortifications for cover. Elites too, were everywhere, wearing the armor that she had been most accustomed to seeing them in. They were carrying weapons, and too, had stationed plasma turrets. A Wraith was whirring about the large square before the steps leading up towards the government building, and beside it, a Scorpion tank.

It was strange to see these forces working together.

The government building was a sharp, black skyscraper, pointing up towards the swirling red clouds. Red lights from the windows glittered all the way up it. It had been clearly built in the Forerunner architectural style, for it carried that sleekness and uniqueness about it. The building was huge, and as Arbiter explained as they approached, now being well fortified. The large square was where the government officials addressed the public from a podium on a balcony of the government building. It was impressive, with over two hundred stairs leading up to it gradually. It was the main focus, dwarfing all other buildings in the area, and the vast empty space around it only added to its allure.

All the streets of the Sangheili city lead to this place, the Arbiter had told them, so 360 degree protection of the area was a must. Together, the Sangheili and UNSC forces seemed to be doing a good job so far. The square and the steps were littered with troops, fortifications, shields and turrets.

"We must guard this place with our lives," the Arbiter said as they passed through the defences that had already been set up. Marines who Renee didn't know acknowledged her due to her rank as she passed. She gave them a nod – having yet to see a rank higher than her own. Half keeping an eye out for any Spartans, she followed the Arbiter and his Elites closely, Greene by her side and the rest of her squad on her heels. Everyone was awestruck at the vastness of the city center. It truly was a centerpiece to the entire city, a vast monument in itself.

They started to ascend the steps.

"You have been assigned a strategic position closer to the government building, on the second landing of these steps," Arbiter explained as they reached the area, he gestured around him, "I shall leave the rest to you, squad commander."

Renee nodded,

"Thank you for seeing us here. Where will you be?" she asked him.

"You shall see me around. For now I must see how my friends are doing inside," he gestured up towards the entrance to the building. With that, he turned, and left, continuing up the steps with his Elites following him.

Renee turned to Greene and the rest of her squad.

"You spotted the supply depo on the way up here," She said, "Private Kowalski and Lance Corporal…" she paused to read his name, "Durham, you two work on getting a machine gun and ammo up here. Private Martin and Private Quinn you get our boxes of rations and our gas stove for the evening. The rest of you start lugging sandbags. We should be settled in in less than a half hour."

"Yes, Sergeant!" It was said in an okay unison.

"Greene, you're with me," Renee spoke up quickly as she saw him turn to follow the rest of the squad.

"I'm good at carrying sandbags, y'know." He smirked, but didn't protest as he watched the rest of their squad clatter down the steps and remained by her side, "Helluva place, innit, Lil Sarge?"

"Quite," Renee looked over her shoulder up at the huge skyscraper, "Not exactly what I was expecting - the building or the situation at hand. Everything seems so calm. We faced little conflict on our way here. There are no signs of the Brutes, aside from the one I killed."

"No doubt the Spartans are taking care of 'em," Greene said, "They're all still out there in the city somewhere. There's support from the air, too. The Brutes were always dumber than the Elites – and this time we have the Elites on our side. I'm waiting to be impressed by the Brutes and the Jackals – ain't happened yet."

"This whole plan – I'd like to say I trust the Arbiter but to just fall back like this and wait… take a defensive position, it makes me uneasy. We're sitting ducks if we get overwhelmed and surrounded."

"Suppose he thinks it won't happen. We have good defenses going for us, both long and short range weaponry," Greene commented, "Still hard to predict how this shit is going to go. You're back fast, excellent." He acknowledged Privates Martin and Quinn who had returned with the rations and stove. They set them down and looked to Renee for further directions.

"That was quick. Go help the others with the sandbags," Renee told them, and they hurried off. She and Greene both agreed on the surprising effort the two Privates had exuberated, especially given the heat.

It didn't take long for the marines from their squad to start coming back with sandbags on their shoulders and to start assembling a sandbag wall on the stairs landing. It took Private Kowalski and Lance Corporal Durham longer however to find a machine gun. Finally, however, Greene spotted them slowly making their way up the steps. Durham, being tall and muscular, had the machine gun and the tripod for it, combined they weighed over fifty pounds. Kowalski was following behind him with four boxes of ammo, which weren't very light either. They didn't appear to be struggling but when they reached their squad's location they were both winded. The humid air and the heat didn't help anyone doing physical exertion.

"3 squad, take a quick water break," Renee said, "Don't want anybody passing out. It's hot as hell so be sure you drink lots of water. You're doing a good job so far. Durham – once you've rested a couple of moments, see about getting two jerry cans of water for us to have up here."

"Yes, Sergeant," Durham turned, drinking from his canteen, and lazily made his way down the steps.

The sandbag wall was about four feet as of present, but Renee and Greene collaborated and decided they should have it another half-a-foot taller, to make it more difficult for any enemies to shoot at them, as their squad had the advantage of height. Quinn and Kowalski were setting up the machine gun on its tripod. A Lance Corporal named Mackenzie was assembling the sandbag wall as the sandbags were brought to him. The squad generally was demonstrating good teamwork – they seemed to get along well and work efficiently, in battle as seen previously but now, in general as well.

Greene lit a cigarette. The smell was thick in the air.

"Didn't know you smoked, Greene." Renee remarked.

"Occasionally; want one?"

"I'll pass for now."

"So you do occasionally then too. I thought you were going to chew me out," He took a long drag on the cigarette and looked out over the city square, "Shit's going smooth here, figured I could have time for a quick smoke break. We have efficient little workers."

Seeing Greene smoking, a couple members of the squad figured they'd smoke too. Renee noticed this but didn't say anything. They had made good time, the machine gun was now assembled, locked and loaded and the wall complete. It had now turned into a waiting game.

She and Greene walked over to the edge of the steps, the stone railing met with the sandbag wall and was a good place to sit. Green chose to, but Renee decided to take a peek at the box of rations. She cut open the first box and began rummaging. Almost immediately she heard Greene start laughing.

"Looking for your fucking number 10 are ya?" He grinned, half-smoked cigarette hanging out of his mouth. She glanced back at him, smirking.

"What if I am, Corporal?" she asked.

"3 squad, an announcement!" Greene called out, "See Sergeant Kilburn here, don't eat her number 10s or she'll kill you stone dead like that Brute from earlier."

The members of 3 squad smiled or laughed. Renee plucked a number 10 ration pack from the box, shaking her head, and tossed it over in Greene's general direction: "You guard it for me."

She sat down beside him and got comfortable, and took off her helmet and sat it beside her. Glancing down at the ration pack, she questioned:

"The chocolate bar, shall it be expired?"

"If you even get one, most likely," Greene shrugged.

"If mine isn't expired, I'll give it to you, Sergeant." A voice caused Renee to look up, and she saw it was Lance Corporal Mackenzie speaking to her. He was a sort of lanky looking fellow, tall, with evidence of a five-o-clock shadow, lazily seated nearby on the sandbags. After studying him for a moment, she realized he looked somewhat familiar.

"You exhibited good leadership skills," Mackenzie elaborated, "An improvement from when I saw you last. You're still pretty, too."

"Mackenzie, shut your fuckin' gob, that's your Sergeant you're talking to," Greene was quick to snap before Renee could even register his words. She realized then and there that, although she hadn't even noticed – she had known him when she was younger.

"It's okay Greene." She said quietly, and looked to Mackenzie, deciding not to elaborate on how she knew him, "You decided to join up after all."

"The Covenant glassed where I worked, had really no other option at the time," He replied, "This isn't really my thing, but it pays well, and offers interesting opportunities – like having you as my squad commander. Never thought in a million years I'd see you again."

"Likewise," Renee said sharply. She glanced to Greene and could tell he was curious about the current conversation. He looked ready to ask questions but just sucked a long drag from his cigarette and tapped the ashes by his feet.

She recalled her brief encounters with Mackenzie; it had been the summer before she had joined the UNSC. She and Troy hadn't been together for a while, and she had, for whatever reason, figured it would be a good idea to have a series of rendezvous with Mackenzie. It had been purely physical, no strings attached – and when she learned that she wasn't the only one with whom he'd been engaging in this behavior, she cut off all ties with him and put him out of her mind. Now here he was, years later, in her damned squad, no doubt with memories of her of a rather inappropriate nature. She had all the fucking luck.

"Are you married?" She decided to ask him.

He shook his head.

Typical, she thought, he was as probably as hormonally fired up and as morally loose as he had been as a young man.

"You're skilled at making sandbag walls," She remarked, "Good to see there's _something _you excel at, Mackenzie."

He chuckled.

"I have other talents, as you've seen personally."

"You know what, I've decided…" Renee felt her irritation building, "The wall should be another row of sandbags taller. Get started." The last sentence sounded malicious.

Bound by authority, Mackenzie went off to do as he'd been ordered, a rather smug look on his face. Renee remembered why she'd been so glad to be rid of him when she had joined basic training. Heaving a sigh, Renee held out her hand to Greene.

"I'm not even going t' ask." he said, regarding the conversation.

"Cigarette."

"Certainly."

* * *

"Nearly all the troops have been deployed and have arrived at the city center," Cortana informed John, "There are several platoons still onboard our ships for backup, but at the moment it doesn't appear to seem like we may need them – yet."

"Where have all the Brutes gone?" John asked. He had heard little about them over the intercom between his Spartans and he had only killed a handful of Brutes and Jackals since he'd touched the ground. He was standing in a long straight boulevard that allowed him to see the few kilometers into the city center. He could spot the government building and the roadblock, and beyond that the mass amount of UNSC and Sangheili troops and vehicles, "My HUD has been blank for the past ten minutes. I don't like this. At all."

"I wish I could tell you John," Cortana replied, "They've secured their channels. I can't pick up anything. I'm not hearing much of interest from the top, either. It seems everyone is wondering the same thing. Should we head towards the city center?"

"No. Not yet," John decided, "I'm thinking they might be plotting an ambush and I want our Spartans out where we can loop around behind them and have them fighting two fronts."

"Good idea."

"_Blue Team and Red Team, this is Sierra 117. Do not go into the city center. I repeat, do not go into the city center. Things are too quiet. Stay on outskirts to provide backup in case everything goes to hell. Over."_

"_Spoke too soon, John! Multiple contacts spotted_." It was Fred-104.

"_Same here._" Kelly-087.

"_Hostiles heading towards the city center. Attack commencing._" Linda-058.

John heard shots from plasma weapons in the distance, then the sporadic fire of a machine gun, sputtering of assault rifles. Looking down the street, John saw the flash of a plasma grenade detonating. Brutes and Jackals suddenly poured from the side streets, not seeing him, heading right for the city center.

Overhead, an enemy Phantom soared, and John ducked in an alley way to avoid the turrets. It hovered, 300 meters away, and from it, dropped a pair of Hunters. The turrets on the Phantom swivelled maliciously, looking for a target. The Hunters must have sensed John's presence, for they turned away from the city center and started coming towards his position.

It was go-time.

* * *

A/N: This update took forever, I know, and I apologize! Had a rather serious personal issue arise that took nearly all of my focus – and presently its exam week, but I knew I had to get this out ASAP. Here it is. Enjoy - AB


	45. SNAFU

**Chapter 45: SNAFU**

**18 Dec 2553 – Planet of Sanghelios**

Gunfire tore through the air, both of human and Covenant weaponry. Renee had been on the brink of falling asleep, slumped comfortably against the wall, which, at this point in the day, had provided her and Greene with adequate shade. The sharp _rat-a-tat-tat_ of assault rifle fire and the sizzling _pew-pew-pews _of the Covenant plasma weapons tore her from the attempt at rest, snapping into full consciousness with a jump. Greene, who must've been dosing off as well, awoke, albeit with a loud curse.

Renee fumbled for her helmet and threw it on her head. Her squad had all taken cover behind the sandbags, awaiting orders. She gave a nod to Greene to issue them, blinking off the sleepiness.

"Return fire!" he shouted, "Durham, get on the machine gun!"

"We shouldn't have dozed off!" Renee said to Greene as they moved to the sandbag wall. Fire from their squad started up, adding to the noise.

"We weren't the only ones I don't think," Greene replied, gesturing to Kowalski, who was slow at shaking off sleep and was fumbling with his helmet and gloves, "Kowalski, wake the fuck up and get your fucking gear on and get firing! Our squad doesn't want to die because of you! We need every man!"

Despite them being harsh, Kowalski responded quickly to Greene's orders. Greene caught Renee looking at him somewhat questioningly for his harshness, so he explained himself,

"It worked well when I was an instructor in basic. It works just fine here. Not a time to get soft on me, Lil Sarge." Greene looked up over the wall, "Jesus Christ there's a lot of em!"

Renee took a look for herself. Sure enough, the place was suddenly swarming with Brutes and Jackals emerging from the streets. Tracer bullets and plasma crisscrossed in arcs, coming in both directions, creating a lightshow of sorts in the hazy redness of the area. The enemy Covenant were having trouble under the machine gun fire. Jackal's shields would deplete within several hits and they would be struck dead with one or two. The Brutes, while more resistant, still were weary with all the impeding fire-power that was waiting for them.

"I was beginning to think this setup around the government building was a joke, but they aren't standing much of a chance!" Renee said. She hadn't yet raised her weapon to fire. There didn't seem a need to. Even the rest of her squad were firing sporadically.

"They seem to be taking care of things just fine down a few flights, Sergeant," Mackenzie said, looking somewhat bored, glancing down to his weapon, then flipping on the safety, "Seems like a waste of ammo to me."

"Did I give you orders to stop firing?" Greene was on him in a second, but Renee lowered her assault rifle from her shoulder, still not having fired a shot. She glanced to Mackenzie before looking to Greene and shaking her head slowly.

"No, but I did. Hold your fire, 3 squad!"

"Lil Sarge, what the hell…"

"As much as I hate Corporal Mackenzie," she made sure to say that part loud enough for Mackenzie to hear, "He does have a point. We are wasting ammo – the machine guns down below are tearing through them – they're almost all dead and…" She surveyed the scene, "Even seem to be retreating. This situation is a joke. We should save our energy when the real assault comes."

"This isn't the real one?" Greene asked.

"I wouldn't count on it. Or if it is, we won't be in this shithole for long. I have seen Covenant assaults when they wanted to take _entire_ planets. This is one little government building, surrounded by a sufficient amount of protection. I'm aware that these Covenant aren't the same Covenant that were around when I was fighting – but doesn't this whole approach seem a little ridiculous to you? In our position, we have the hill, so to speak. We've got circular machine gun coverage of this whole fucking area and multiple backups of higher caliber… and they're sending ground troops to rush us? Seems desperate, incredibly stupid, or a clever attempt to get us to waste our ammo. If this had been 2535, they would have pounded our position with mortars and overhead assault and then simply glassed this whole place and every single fucking person here."

Greene narrowed his eyes, nodding.

"So what do you think is going on?"

"I… I don't know, but…" Renee frowned, snapping her fingers, "I don't like it. Higher ups. I need to speak to someone higher up. Um… Mackenzie, radio. Get me the radio."

Mackenzie moved quickly, and was by her side with what she requested in a second. She ran over how to use it in her head, blanking. She only recalled how to use the set in her helmet, and knew Mackenzie and Greene were watching her.

Letting out a small sigh, Mackenzie picked up the receiver.

"Who do you wish to contact, Sergeant? As being assigned to carry this radio, I do know how to use it, and was given instructions to reach several people."

"Master Chief Petty Officer Spartan-117," the name flew out of her mouth instantaneously.

"Well, not that specific person," Mackenzie arched an eyebrow.

"I don't care! Find out how!" Renee snapped.

"I don't know how, Sergeant," Mackenzie snapped right back, "Would you like me to start yelling for him? That might be easier."

Renee, in her frustration gave Mackenzie a rough shove, knocking him off balance

"You shut up!" She shook her head, looking to the radio, although she knew she hadn't a clue how to use it, "I can't _believe _out of all people I had to wind up being in charge of _you_."

"Feisty," Mackenzie grinned, "I like that."

"I'll fucking show you feisty Mackenzie if you disobey another one of my orders!" Renee pointed to the radio, "I don't care if you have to contact Lord Hood himself, I want the radio channel for the Master Chief! And I fucking want it NOW!"

Greene surprised at Renee's outburst, couldn't help but laugh. Mackenzie shook his head in defeat, lifting the receiver to his ear and digging a paper from his pocket, which had a few names scribbled down on the list.

"Gotta get clearance to go up the chain of command," he mumbled, "Might take a little while."

"As fast as you can," Renee told him. She glanced to Greene, who was still having trouble wiping a smile off his face. All of a sudden, on the helmet head-sets, a wide-spread order crackled through,

"Stop, stop, stop! Hold your fire, I repeat, hold your fire, over!" It was sent from one of the Sergeant Majors in charge of a platoon further down the line.

"That's for everyone," Renee said, turning around to gaze down the steps at the battle scene. The last of the assault rifles and machine guns stopped and it wasn't hard to spot the reason for why firing had been stopped. A green, sizzling beam whooshed from an alleyway, striking one of the buildings. Fuel rod cannon – Hunters.

"Shit!" Greene remarked, recognizing it instantly.

"Hunters are _not _a reason to hold fire!" Renee shot to her feet, "What the hell is going on?"

Her question was answered when a green MJOLNIR-armor clad figure came dashing out of the alley way. He bounced off a wall, disoriented, spinning, but steadied himself and kept going. Smoke was appearing to roll off him, as if he'd just avoided a graze with the fuel rod cannon. His weapon was in hand, but he seemed to want to get a certain distance from the Hunters – that were just now lumbering into sight.

Renee's heart flew into her throat when she recognized the armor and realized it was John. Leave it to him to get into a mess like that.

"Jesus Christ, no," Renee mumbled, her legs carrying her around the sandbags and down the steps. Greene shot to his feet, realizing she was going down there.

"Sergeant!" he shouted after her.

Renee watched as John nearly avoided another fuel rod blast, stumbling. His shields sparked, dwindling almost completely. Her pace down the steps quickened, fear striking her – he was not performing like she had recalled him capable of.

A hand clamped onto her arm, jerking her backwards.

"Sergeant!" It was Greene. Not far behind him, was Mackenzie.

"Let me go, Greene." She tried to pull her arm free but his grip was firm.

"And do what?" He asked, raising his voice, "Go play hero? There will be nothing left of you if you get hit!"

"Are you crazy?" Mackenzie demanded, "That's a Spartan – let him deal with the Hunters."

"I have to help him!" Renee said, wrenching free of his grip, "I'm not going to stand by and watch!"

"You are making a scene," Greene grabbed a hold of her again, leaning close to her ear in order not to raise his voice, "_Think _for a second, Kilburn. You are a Sergeant, in a position of command. I get what Chief is to you, but this dramatic bullshit might've been acceptable when you were a Private and no one gave a fuck if you got vaporized. However you've got another thing coming if you think I'm going to let you go out there. I'll dislocate your arm first – and believe me, that is painful."

Renee looked challengingly at him in silence for a few moments.

"I have felt worse pain, Greene."

"So have I."

Renee remained where she stood, looking back to the scene between John and the Hunters. The second one had appeared, and although John was avoiding them rather easily, she knew that no one could open fire without risk of hitting him instead of the Hunters. He was playing the avoiding game, close enough where they couldn't fire their fuel rod cannons, but too far for them to hit him with their shields.

She glanced around, watching the multiple squads stationed, watching the Spartan versus the two Hunters as if they were spectators to a gladiator fight. To her left, there were multiple ordinances lying unsupervised. Her eye caught a sniper rifle, the box housing it open. Immediately next to it was ammunition.

"That's the guy you wanted me to radio, isn't it?" Mackenzie was asking, trying to find an excuse to talk. Ignoring him, Renee slung her assault rifle around her shoulder and walked over to the box, taking the sniper rifle out and grabbing a single magazine. Slapping it in, she met Greene and Mackenzie's curious stares.

"If I shoot him, I will take full responsibility," she said plainly, turning and ascending the steps to get into a better position.

"She's a sniper?" Mackenzie asked Greene.

"If you ask one more annoying question, Corporal, I will punch you in the mouth and break your teeth." Greene watched after Renee as she reached 3 squad's position and adopted the kneeling position behind the sandbag wall, resting the barrel to steady it. He sighed, shaking his head, "I don't believe it's in her qualification listings."

Mackenzie folded his arms on his chest.

"She's different from when I knew her," he said, "But… I don't think she'd be doing this if she wasn't confident."

Renee rested her cheek against the butt-stock of the sniper rifle, closing one eye as she peered through the scope. 10x optical was sufficient for the distance. She surveyed the scene through the scope for several seconds, watching John continue his dance of death with the two Hunters. If only he knew she was doing this, he could try to manoeuver the Hunters to turn their exposed backs to her…

One turned, and she could see its back.

"Come on," she whispered.

She inhaled calmly and held her breath on the exhale. Her heart was beating heavily in her chest. The scope steadied and the sight was dead-center. Gently, she squeezed the trigger – barely hearing the shot or the vicious .57 caliber kick to her shoulder – she watched the Hunter take the hit, a spew of orange blood exploding outward from the exit wound. It dropped immediately.

Panning her scope to John, she saw him scan the steps, realizing what had happened. Could he see her? Or see it was _her_? Not sure. She got the second Hunter in sight, and saw it had turned, spotted her, and the sickly green charge of the fuel rod cannon charging up.

"GET OUT OF HERE!" she shouted to those around her, but those in 3 squad had seen what was happening before she had and were already splitting. Adrenaline pumping through her veins, Renee leapt up from her position and bolted into a run. She heard the sizzle of the fuel rod soaring through the air. She glanced over her shoulder to see as the first layer of their sandbag wall was vaporized. The beam hit the stairs behind their position, the blast knocking her to her knees. The sniper rifle clattered down several steps. The air popped and sizzled around her, the heat almost unbearable. She heard Greene – and possibly Mackenzie yelling. Despite tasting blood in her mouth, and sweat stinging her eyes, she shook it off, she crawled down the steps, grabbing the sniper rifle and jumping to her feet again.

John had distracted the Hunter once more. She didn't have time to try to regain her position behind the sandbags. Standing, she raised the sniper rifle to her shoulder, taking aim once more. When she looked through the scope, she was looking into the orange of the Hunter's back.

The shot echoed through the air, recoil jerking her shoulder back violently, but she watched the second Hunter fall. Lowering the sniper rifle, feeling the ache in her shoulder, Renee caught her breath. Her legs were shaking, so she dropped to sit on the steps, letting her head hang between her knees.

The first triumphant cheer came from Greene – but it was joined by others – not just from her squad – all the marines stationed on the steps clapped and jeered.

"Atta be Sergeant!"

"Great shot, Sarge!"

She felt a hand on her shoulder, a pat on the back, realizing her squad was crowded excitedly around her. A canteen was held out to her. She took it, her hands still shaking. Taking off her helmet, she dumped some of it over her head, down the back of her neck. Sweat mixed with water dripped into her eyes, and she wiped it away. When she opened her eyes, she saw Greene and Mackenzie in front of her.

Mackenzie looked nothing short of stunned, not saying anything. Greene couldn't wipe the smile off his face.

"Now you make me feel like I hardly know you at all, Lil Sarge," he said.

John, stood in the square, looking at the two dead Hunters, that just moments before had been hell-bent on smashing him into oblivion. Their orange blood seemed to be everywhere. He was breathing heavily, exhausted, having taken a vicious hit from a Hunter's shield in the alleyway.

Suddenly, Kelly-087 came across his com-channel.

"That was some sniping – I thought it was Linda before I realized it came from the steps."

"Who was it?" John demanded, out of breath.

"You're not going to believe this – I'm not sure I do. 3 squad commander. Your little marine, John."

John's mouth fell open, and he turned to gaze up the steps, recognizing her now, sitting surrounded by a group of marines. Even from here, he could tell they were celebrating her shots.

"Sitrep on the surrounding area, over."

"All-clear. I believe they pissed off for a while."

"Acknowledged, over and out."

John slapped his assault rifle to his back, and began to ascend the steps, three at a time, however calmly. Noticeable, he saw both marines and Sangheili watching him as he went. Morale was high, and his presence increased that – but mainly because of Renee's shooting.

He saw Renee, and she seemed to spot him at the same time. The marines around her, Greene included, followed her gaze and sort of scattered when he neared five feet of them. She didn't move from her spot, clearly exhausted, not used to the heat. Water was dripping down her face, the canteen in her hand the obvious culprit. There were traces of blood on her chin. Her lips curled into a weak smile, and she ran her fingers through her wet hair, glancing down at the sniper rifle lying at her feet, the barrel still smoking.

John came to a stop a couple steps below her, aware of everyone staring at him. Greene wasn't intimidated; he looked more intrigued as to what he was going to say. The tall, lanky Corporal standing next to him, Mackenzie – he read his nametag quickly – looked intimidated and suspicious, eyeballing him.

"Seems strange that I've helped you out twice in one day, Master Chief," Renee spoke, breaking the silence. She rubbed her shoulder, "Although I can't say the sniper rifle will be my permanent weapon of choice."

"Good shooting," John remarked, "You'd get used to the recoil."

"I hope I won't _need_ to," she answered, getting to her feet. Jumping down a couple steps, they turned and started walking slowly away from the crowd of marines. John could feel the eyes on their backs, though, ever scrutinizing.

"Didn't take you very long to get back into the game – I'm surprised," John confessed, "Kelly thought it was Linda."

Renee raised a brow.

"I'm not that good."

"You killed two Hunters with the new version SRS99, a model in which that you never touched until today from a position of elevated height from 500 meters in the kneeling… and standing positions, dodging a fuel rod in between the two shots… not everyone can do that."

"Maybe they can, if they are faced with the same situation," Renee shrugged, "Seeing someone you care about in immediate danger. Greene wouldn't let me go out there…"

"Good."

"… So I went for the next best thing."

"I think you are finally grasping the idea of how to help me without being reckless," John replied, "Although what you pulled off wasn't exactly safe."

"You're one to lecture about recklessness!" Renee grinned.

"Let's face it – I'm a little more durable than you are."

"True... but you concerned me! The way I saw you come stumbling out of the alley-way like a ragdoll! Hurting?"

"I've learned to ignore pain; you know that," John replied, "They got a lucky hit."

Renee sighed, shaking her head. John's attitude was never changing when it came to injuries. She was surprised that he had even admitted to it. They came to a stop, far enough away from prying ears, turning to face each other.

"Do you know what's going on?" she asked him, "With this? They rushed us for maybe five minutes and were mowed down. You and the Hunters were the grand finale. Now we're back to waiting. My squad and I were able to have a nap earlier…"

"My Spartans are reporting a 360 degree all-clear around this area. Not a sign of any enemies," John said, "I know – I don't like it either. I've been meaning to get in contact with Lord Hood and see how things are up in the air."

"When you do, let me know what you hear."

"Of course. I think I'll stick around for a while, until I'm needed elsewhere."

"I hope not," Renee smiled, "I do need to get back to my squad though, I see Greene's ordered them to start rebuilding the unfortunate sandbag wall, but, I am the commander." She spotted Mackenzie staring at them, "And if _he _doesn't stay in his place I'll help him find it."

"Who? Corporal Mackenzie?" John asked, "Is he causing trouble?"

"A little witty with the comments. I knew him, a long time ago. Haven't seen him since… til now. He was some form of entertainment when Troy and I didn't get along."

John let out a little grunt.

"A detail from your past that you haven't told me, that's interesting."

"It's not something I want to remember, John. Or something I want other people to know."

"Why tell me, then?" John asked.

"Just so you don't think he's just some random pervert who doesn't respect my rank," She said, "Although that could describe him accurately… aside from being random because I actually know him…"

"So basically you're saying don't get upset if he makes a reference to something I'd rather not know," John turned, as they began heading up the steps again, "I think I got enough experience dealing with that when Troy was alive – not to speak ill of the dead, of course, but… don't worry Renee. My days of punching people when they piss me off are over. I can control my anger." He paused thoughtfully, "I don't have time to be concerned with such childish things."

Renee opened her mouth to speak, but decided against it. She spotted Durham and Kowalski passing them on the steps, on their way to retrieve new sandbags to replace those that had been vaporized.

"Keep up the good work, guys."

"Will do, Sarge."

"You have the authority…" Renee was surprised when John continued his train of thought, "To threaten this Corporal with adequate punishment if he so much as says something disrespectful. You can get him charged or demoted. Don't warn me of his behavior – if you want something done, you have the power now to do it yourself and it is expected of you to do so."

"Yes, sir," Renee muttered, not quite caring for John's tone.

"Watch the sarcasm," John snapped.

Renee turned to look at him, surprised.

"See?" he asked, "I didn't even have to make a threat. My tone alone combined with my authority over you made you think real twice, didn't it?" He paused to chuckle slightly, reaching over and patting her gently on the back, "Keep it in mind."

She shook her head, smiling slightly.

"I thought for a second you were serious."

"Good."

"Listen, are you going to at least take your helmet off for a moment?" Renee asked, reaching over and linking her arm with his, "You said yourself the area is safe and … we have some time to relax. Who knows when we'll get a chance to again, come sit with me and maybe we can have something to eat."

"Sounds tempting."

Greene saw Renee and John were approaching and caught the intimate gesture, although it could be taken as friendly just as easily, he knew the actual intention behind it. Out of curiosity, he glanced to Mackenzie, who was replacing the new sandbags as the others brought them. He was paused at his work, watching Renee and John. Greene was half surprised to see his face crumpled in disgust.

"Chief's known the good Sergeant a lot longer than _you_ have, Mackenzie," he decided to comment.

Mackenzie picked up a sandbag, glancing over his shoulder at Greene, raising an eyebrow.

"Do I look like I care?" he asked earnestly, and went back to rebuilding the wall, shaking his head, "I wonder if he knows her well enough to know how good she gives blow jobs."

Durham, who was returning with a couple sandbags, gave Mackenzie a look like he was crazy.

"I'd keep your mouth shut, buddy, unless you're cruising' for a demotion. Stop vocalizing your wet dreams to everybody, it's pretty sick. Some of us have _actual_ conquests to brag about." Durham threw the sandbags at Mackenzie, and he caught them with difficulty, staggering. Mackenzie looked stunned.

"You don't believe me?" he asked.

"Believe what?" Renee spoke up and Mackenzie turned around surprised to see she'd arrived. He took a nervous glance up to John, then back to her, shaking his head.

"You know what I'm talking about," he said simply.

"Oh? The same bullshit that always comes out of your mouth?" Renee raised a brow, "If you shut your fucking gob and did some actual work that sandbag wall would be built already!"

"Yes, Sergeant," he replied obediently, "Care to introduce us, though?" He gave a nod towards Master Chief.

"Not really. If you had any clue you wouldn't need an introduction – everyone else in this squad knows this is the Master Chief."

"I know who he is," Mackenzie replied, "I doubt he knows me though, or knows about us."

"I've been informed, Corporal," John spoke up.

"Oh! Fantastic. Maybe you and I can swap comparison stories sometime, sir."

"Right." John nodded. He took off his helmet, his suit depressurizing. His face was trickled with sweat, and a trickle of blood was running down his forehead and his nose. In the red hazy light, his facial scars seemed pronounced. He fixed his dark eyes on Mackenzie, and flashed him a bear-toothed grin, "And maybe I can see about getting you charged. Seems fair."

Greene couldn't help but start laughing. Renee looked to Mackenzie, shrugging with sarcastic sympathy. John sat down against the wall of the steps, and she joined him.

"Well I'll take a moment to eat," John said, "But then I'll have to get back to work."

"Fair enough," she answered, "Greene? Be a doll and start the stove!"

"Sure thing."

Renee grabbed the box of rations, pulling it over closer to them.

"What kind?" she asked.

"You don't happen to have number 10, do you?"

Greene sighed, rolling his eyes, grinning, as he got the stove going.

"Jesus Christ! You _are _perfect for each other!"

Renee started laughing. John raised an eyebrow, his mouth curling into a grin. She showed him her own ration pack, a number 10. And much to her surprise, John too, started to laugh.

A/N: Alright! So this is shorter than what I usually post, but I am going away tomorrow on a military course for two whole months, and I figured something is better than nothing for a chapter! Hope you enjoy! Til August 30th! - AB


	46. Rations and Morphine

**Chapter 46: Rations and Morphine**

**18 Dec 2553 – Planet of Sanghelios**

Two number 10s sat boiling in the pot on the field stove, and Greene, Renee and John sat around it.. The hazy air was thick with cigarette smoke, thanks to Greene and Renee. John had put his helmet back on until the food was ready. It was strange to see him fully clad in his armor, sitting looking rather relaxed, leaned up against the sandbags, one arm resting on his knee casually. Until he moved, he looked like a faceless statue sitting there.

"They should be ready soon," Greene gestured to the boiling pot, taking his cigarette from his mouth to spit, "Grab 'em any time now I'd say you'd be good."

Renee was just letting her cigarette burn down, tapping the ashes at her feet, staring into the boiling pot as if it was mesmerising.

"Last time I'm givin' you a cig, Lil Sarge," Greene continued, "It's not an incense stick."

"Oh," she snapped to, "Forgot I had it." She went to raise it to her lips, but John took it from her fingers and tossed it disdainfully over the stairwell.

"You don't need that." He said simply. He could tell that she was deep in thought, and potentially stressed. As impressive as her actions were with the sniper rifle, he could tell she wasn't used to being in such high-pressure situations. She'd dodged a beam of plasma that would've vaporized her and worked against the time to save him from the two Hunters. If she wasn't so calm, he would have need to worry, but at the same time, her calmness was also disturbing. It reminded him of himself.

"Hmm," Renee nodded, "No, I need a drink instead." She smirked.

"Don't look at me, Sarge. Just cause I'm Irish doesn't mean I have watered down whiskey in my canteen," Greene grinned, "And I don't think the Master Chief has any, either."

"I don't drink." John replied, "Neither should Sergeant Kilburn." He glanced down at her, and she didn't meet his eyes, knowing very well he was referencing what had almost happened the last time she got into the alcohol.

"I think the beans are ready," She announced, dodging the subject, leaning forward and plucking the two ration packets from the boiling water and handing one to John, "I'd say be careful cause they're hot, but I don't think that's a worry with your armor on."

"Nope." John answered, setting the packet on his lap to take off his helmet again.

"Before I shut this off, you sure you're not hungry Greene?" Renee asked him, and he shook his head. She reached forward and twisted off the stove, grimacing as she did so, uttering a curse under her breath. John and Greene didn't miss it.

"Ou, you're not used to firing a .57 calibre rifle, are ya?" Greene asked, laughing slightly, "Shoulder botherin' ya a bit eh?" He watched her nod, leaning back against the sandbag wall, grabbing her plastic spoon and tearing open her ration pack, "Did you look at it?"

"No." She replied, "Don't want to."

"If you have any anti-inflammatory pain-killers, take them," John advised. His helmet was off and he met her eyes, his face forecasting the natural concern for her that she had seen countless times before.

"All I have on me is a shot of morphine in my first aid kit," Renee said with a shrug, "It's not bad John, more of an annoyance than anything else."

"Morphine? Take that shit!" Greene laughed, joking, "You'll be all doped up and fuckin' invincible!"

Renee laughed, shaking her head, glancing to John, knowing he wouldn't find it funny. He was eating his rations in silence.

"I am already invincible Greene, fuck you," She said, smiling, "Way to hurt my ego. Do you realize how many times I almost died but didn't?"

"Not as many as Master Chief," Greene said, "Sorry Sarge, but you're sitting next to the wrong guy to be making any claims about how many times you almost died."

"Especially when I'm the reason why she _isn't_ dead right now," John said plainly, glancing down to Renee.

"Oh?" Greene was intrigued, "So it normally is the other way around, she isn't saving your ass, you're saving hers. Pulling out a wild card this time 'round, Lil Sarge?"

"I owe him a lot," Renee gave John a little nudge, "Just trying to start paying him back."

"The more I hear about you two the crazier I think your history is. What sort of shit did you two get into?"

John and Renee exchanged glances.

"Everything." Renee said.

"Nothing." John said at the exact same time. Hearing each other's responses, they both looked at each other again comically, and then back to Greene.

A big grin came on Greene's face, and he chuckled, snuffing out his cigarette on the ground.

"Well aren't those a couple of opposite extremes."

"You can't be blind, Greene," Renee told him, "And certainly not deaf. Surely you…"

"Understand that you two have been together as a couple for a very long time?" Greene finished, raising an eyebrow, "Yeah, I figured as much since the first time I saw you with him – although at the time I didn't know he was the Master Chief." Greene met John's gaze, that was steady and serious, trying to read him, "That's a very impressive poker face, sir, but even _I _can see the subtle signs when you're around Sergeant Kilburn."

"It isn't _the_ best kept secret." John replied.

"Trust me, relationships in the military _never _are," Greene said, "Especially when rooms are primarily organized by sex, it's kind of obvious when you see a woman walking out of a man's shacks. I had a fling with a Junior LT a few years back. Tall blonde, wonderful ass. We tried t' keep it on the low, but when my roommate who was supposed to be gone for the weekend walked in one morning, saw I wasn't alone…" he started laughing, "The poor bastard didn't know whether to salute or just leave and pretend he didn't see anything."

John smirked, nodding his head. Renee started laughing.

"I suppose you have a point." John said.

"Oh my gosh! That would've been bad!" Renee exclaimed, "The worst thing that happened to us was that Mickey's cat Brute activated the automatic doors to John's room, and since he hadn't locked them…"

"Priceless," Greene laughed, "Bet ya two shit a brick eh."

"I would have had trouble explaining myself it had been anyone other than the cat," John admitted.

"Uh, hello fella Spartan buddy, er, excuse me while I help _dress_ Sgt Kilburn, seems her shirt came undone…" Greene improvised.

John couldn't hold back a smile, chuckling.

"You did break one of my buttons off my dress shirt one time," Renee pointed out, cracking up, "_And,_ who comes in but Dr. Halsey, and she finds the button on the fucking floor…."

The three of them broke, John and Renee laughing at the memory, Greene laughing at them.

"Jumpin' jesus Christ, what sorta shit did they put into those fuckin number 10s?" he wiped at his eyes, "You fuckin crack me up the two o' ya."

Renee rested her head on John's shoulder, still giggling.

"I'm going to pee myself." She said, gasping for breath.

This caused John to give her a strange look which only made Greene start laughing harder.

"Holy fuck, stop it, yer gonna kill me, bustin' a gut here laughin'."

Renee tried her best to gain composure, for she was aware the rest of 3 squad were looking, curious as to what was causing all the laughter. They had finished rebuilding the sandbag wall that had been so unfortunately vaporized – their motivation to complete the task had been surprising. A couple of them were napping, but those who were awake, smoking and shooting the shit, were all turned in their direction – observing their ICs and the Master Chief, laughing up a storm. Renee realized if she was in their position, she'd be gawking too. She saw Mackenzie was one of the ones eyeballing them, although compared to the others' faces which were of pure amusement and surprise; his was a scowl that reminded her of the way Troy used to look at her when she, Amy and John used to have their fun back in 2535. Mackenzie's attempt at being witty had blown up in his face and John had struck some severe intimidation into him – she knew his mouth was sealed for now, but he could still get away with glaring.

"Laughin' 'bout you, Mackenzie." Greene said, and Renee realized he had glanced back at their squad and spotted Mackenzie's dirty look. The lance corporal wasn't sure how to take to this, so he just turned away, a frown on his face.

"Fuckin' don't like the mouth on that one," Greene remarked, referring to Mackenzie, "Dunno how you haven't punched 'im in the throat yet, Lil Sarge. I get that you knew the scrawny fuck way back when, but jesus, wouldn't matter none to me! Gives ya all the more reason to let him have it, I say."

Renee chuckled, shaking her head.

"He'll learn his place," John said calmly, "If he gets off this planet alive."

"Atta b'y. Cynicism. I like it," Greene approved.

"John!" Renee scolded.

"What is it with you and the people you knew from when you were young?" John asked earnestly, "No disrespect to Troy, he had his redeeming qualities. But… seriously… that?" he gestured over to Mackenzie. This got Greene laughing again.

"I don't know," Renee said with a scoff, smirking at John's surprising question, "And it's sad because I forgot about his existence up til now."

"Ya can't judge people's pasts, sir," Greene told John, "You should see the crowd I used to call friends back when I was young livin' in Irelan'. Fucked up bunch o' young lads let me tell ya. But that's probably pretty obvious when ya take a look at me. I see where you're coming from with Lil Sarge. She looks like she would've been one of the young girls with a rich daddy, always goin' on shoppin' trips, best friends with a gay guy and savin' herself for some nice well-groomed gentleman once she was old enough to date."

"You didn't even graze the target on that prediction Greene," Renee shook her head.

"I was joking," he tried to save himself.

"You weren't! Poor judge of character, and I gave you a light auto bio just the other day!"

"Well I don't know what you were like when you were a teenager! I'm just goin' off the common census, figured I'd hit a couple right points."

"My family was of average income, I played on my school's hockey team for five years, didn't like shopping, was excellent at gravball, dated my best friend that I had known from childhood for three years until he left and enlisted for the UNSC at age 18." She rhymed off her history without thinking.

"Where the fuck did _he_ fit in?" Greene gestured back to Mackenzie.

"The summer before I enlisted myself. I was young and stupid."

"Clearly, but joining the UNSC was a redeeming follow-up," Greene nodded, "If he's the biggest regret you have of your teenage years, you've still got your halo over your head, angel. Doesn't compare to my rap sheet." And he jerked a thumb in John's direction, "And I say you made a sufficient upgrade from Lance Corporal Wetdream."

"Huh," John scoffed modestly, glancing down to Renee, "Dunno bout that."

"Stop it, he's right." Renee elbowed him.

"So how long have you known each other, anyways if you don't mind me askin'?" Greene questioned.

"Since 2535," John stepped up to the plate and answered this one, "Met during the Battle of Capricornia."

"Far from strangers then… interestin'."

"A lot of time for things to happen and people to change." John said, sitting his ration pack on the ground, finished with it. He put his helmet on his head, the suit pressurizing, and was to his feet in a second. Renee wasn't sure what he had meant by what he said. She craned her neck to look up at him.

"Thanks for the number 10." He said.

"Leaving so soon?" Greene asked, "Someone needs to teach you a lesson on relaxation sir."

"In another life, perhaps."

"John!" Renee called after him, expecting him to stop, as he began descending the stairs, but he didn't. She cursed under her breath, shoveling one last spoonful of her rations into her mouth, scrambling to her feet, taking her helmet and weapon with her, "Be back in a sec, Greene."

"John!" she called again, making her way after him.

All the members of 3 squad looked on in curiosity at their Sergeant rushing after Master Chief, calling him not by his rank, or by sir, but by his first name. Greene sighed, turning slightly to face them, offering a shrug.

"They were, uh, fire team partners once upon a time," He made it up on the spot.

"I bet." Mackenzie was quick to remark.

"Not many people can say they were fire team partners with Master Chief," Kowalski shrugged, "Sarge is lucky."

"Seems strange that they'd pair a Spartan with a marine," Mackenzie raised a brow, "She wasn't always a Sergeant. I saw her sniping skills, which I must admit are impressive, but my guess is that she did some favors to get Master Chief wanting her around."

"They're totally fuckin'," Durham shrugged, taking a long drag on his cigarette, "Everybody can tell that. But big deal, it's the fuckin' marine corps, there's been weirder hookups than a Spartan and a marine. The Chief's not a bad lookin guy, pretty ripped, plus he's got that history man. I'd say he could get whoever and whatever the fuck he wants, when he wants and how he wants. Would _you _tell Master Chief 'no'? I sure fuckin' wouldn't." He broke into chuckles.

"Ya got a point," Kowalski nodded. She lit her own cigarette, "In this sorta bullshit you never know what's gonna happen. Why not live each day like it's your last, eh? What's that ol' stupid fuckin saying? Yolo?"

"Hahah jesus Kowalski, you so didn't go there," Greene shook his head, laughing.

"Yolo motherfuckers," Durham joked.

"What a statement of the obvious," Mackenzie rolled his eyes, "Of course everyone only lives once."

"And _that_ was a statement of the fuckin' obvious," Greene snapped, "I think you've had long enough sittin' on yer scrawny arse, Lance Corporal Obvious. Go field strip your assault rifle and clean it. I'd like to see the fuckin' look on your face if she has a stoppage from bein' all fulla sand in the middle of a firefight. Make yerself fuckin' worth somethin' before I think of somethin' really fucked up for ya to do."

"Leaving so abruptly?" Renee asked. She had followed John down nearly all of the stairs, her frustration brewing with each step she took; she had given up calling after him after the first little while. Damn him, he knew she was there. She had her assault rifle and the sniper rifle slung on her back, she wasn't exactly quiet or graceful in her movement. Her shoulder was aching.

"I told you that I had to eat and be on my way," John finally answered, not slowing his pace, "I didn't like where that conversation was headed."

"Oh? Too personal?"

"Yes. I can't afford to think about the past, present, or the future, in regards to my personal life." He glanced down over his shoulder at her, "Remember where you are, Renee. This is the same lecture I gave you twenty years ago. At nineteen it was understandable that you might not fully grasp the concept, but now after being shot, falling into a coma, and now being in charge of an entire squad, I expect you can get what I'm saying. You can't afford to think of anything other than what's going on right here, right now."

"We were all just laughing a minute ago, if anything it was a morale boost…"

"Fine, it was – but now it's over. Head back in the game," He gave her a light smack on the top of the helmet. She flinched instinctively, but smiled at the gesture, knowing it was about the extent that he could touch her without it seeming inappropriate. John continued, "You've made me proud so far, Sergeant. Real proud. I always knew you had it in you. Keep it up... I won't be far away if you need me. I promise."

"Thank you John," She said quietly, "You don't know how much it means to hear that."

"I do. Or I wouldn't have said it." He pointed to his own helmet, "You have my com-channel?"

She shook her head.

"Bravo three-niner alpha. Don't be shy to use it."

"Yes, sir." She replied. For John, the conversation was over. He turned and broke into a light jog, taking his assault rifle off his back as he did, heading back out into the city. She stood watching him go. He made everything look effortless and graceful. Despite weighing over a ton in his armor, he dashed away as light footed as a cat, his movements unnaturally fluid.

Renee heard and felt the shot at the same time. A burst of searing heat and pain shot through her leg, and she cried out, the force of the shot knocking her off her feet. She landed on her back, panic searing through her.

"SNIPER!"

"MEDIC!"

"SARGE!" Even from afar she heard Greene yell. He jumped up faster than anyone and took off down the steps.

Everyone around her jumped into defensive action in a matter of seconds, and Renee just took to screaming, clutching her leg. It felt like it was on fire. Writhing in pain, she saw the shot – plasma - had hit the armor plating on her upper thigh, but the armor was _melting _into her skin. She felt nauseous. Adrenaline was already flying through her veins, but the pain was unbelievable.

Someone grabbed her by the back of her tac vest and started dragging her quickly out of the line of fire. She continued screaming and cursing, tears of pain rolling down her face. She was dragged behind the shelter of a sandbag wall.

"Make it stop!" she said in-between screams; it felt like someone was stabbing a hot poker into her leg, "Make it stop, jesus Christ!"

"Hold her still!" She heard somebody say, and she felt a pair of hands grab onto her shoulders.

Greene arrived by her side, and quickly dug in her tacvest to produce her first aid kit.

"And we were just talkin' bout usin' this!" He muttered, producing the morphine shot. The medic hadn't arrived yet, but he didn't need a medic to tell him the poor woman needed pain-killers. He pulled off the cap and stabbed it into her leg, "There ya go Lil Sarge, pain'll be gone soon. You'll live, darlin'!" he looked to her, her face skewered up in pain – she'd stopped screaming but tears were rolling down her face, breathing deeply,

"It burns!" she managed to say.

Greene glanced behind him and saw the remainder of their squad were clustered around, trying to get a peek at their Sergeant. Mackenzie looked white as a ghost.

"Just a leg wound! The bastard missed his mark!" He told them, glancing back down to Renee, "Long way from yer heart!" He gave her a pat on the shoulder. The medic arrived, and Greene informed him that he had already given her morphine, and the medic scrambled to get to work on her leg. Greene guessed that medevac had already been called.

Suddenly he heard a commotion, and Greene turned just in time to see the body of a Jackal land with a thud on the ground, its neck twisted and broken beyond any chances of survival. Its purple blood splattered around it. Greene looked up, and saw Master Chief, shoulders heaving in rage, standing above it, a Covenant carbine in his hands. His head snapped in Renee's direction, and he discarded the carbine and was beside Greene in a flash.

"Wasn't too good o' a shot, sir," Greene told him.

"John," Renee said, seeing him. The morphine was kicking in, but she was still in obvious pain. She reached up for his hand, and without hesitating he took it. She expected him to say something, but John was silent, and she stared into his mirrored visor, only seeing her reflection.

He looked to the medic.

"Will she lose it?" he asked. It took Renee a couple seconds to realize John meant her leg.

"Hard to say, sir," the medic replied, as he put biofoam on the wound, "Her armor protected her from most of it – but as you can see that's melted into her skin. I don't think the plasma reached the bone, but I suspect significant muscle damage. There isn't much I can do. She'll be sent right into surgery and it'll ultimately be up to the surgeons."

"Hold on, don't I get a fucking say what happens to my leg?" Renee asked, trying to sit up, "I can't leave. I don't think you understand, I'm a squad commander, these are my men and women under my command…" she gestured to her squad, then nodded towards her leg, "Fill it with fucking as much biofoam and give me more morphine. I'm not leaving."

"Out of the question." John snapped, and turned to talk to

She looked to Greene, meeting his eyes, shaking her head, as if to say,

"I'm not leaving."

Greene, keeping his eyes on Chief, reached into his own first aid kit. He withdrew the morphine injection and quickly put it into Renee's arm. Discarding it quickly, he gave her a quick pat on the shoulder.

"Thanks," she whispered.

"Can you walk?" he mouthed to her.

She shrugged. The pain was now a background annoyance – she was surprised at how fast the morphine was working. All she knew was that she wasn't leaving. It was a sentence if she got on the Pelican to be taken back to ship. If she gave in to what John wanted, this would mean the end of any involvement in this battle. A medical chit ordered by John himself would keep her on the ship – and that's not what she wanted.

She had all the fucking luck – how quickly it had happened, a matter of seconds. Plasma shot to the leg, shitty sniper, yet the pain. Plasma hurt a thousand times worse than an actual bullet. Her leg was a shit-show, but if she could get to her feet and stay on her feet, there was no reason why she couldn't continue her job as squad commander. She didn't want to leave Greene all by himself.

John was still conversing with the medic. Renee acted instinctively.

"Mackenzie. Durham," she ordered, "Help me get to my feet."

At first, they hesitated, but they were there with their arms around her shoulders, pulling her to her feet in seconds. John and the medic didn't realize what was going on until Renee was on her feet, arms wrapped around Mackenzie and Durham, but on her feet regardless. She grimaced, but put most of her weight on her good leg and was certain she could be steady enough without their help.

John shot to his feet, staring at Renee. Although she couldn't see his face, his posture alone gave away he was suddenly furious for seeing her defiance.

Greene slowly stood, and took a couple steps back, glancing from Master Chief to Renee, waiting for the shit to hit the fan. Now knowing the confirmed history between the Sergeant and the Chief, he knew rank and seniority really wouldn't matter during this upcoming feud.

"I'm on my feet," Renee said, shifting her weight to her wounded leg just to prove it to John. Faint pain shot through her, but she held back the grimace, staring into his mirrored visor, "I am not abandoning my squad."

"You will do what I tell you."

She lifted her arms from around Mackenzie and Durham's shoulders, and took a couple steps forward, with a noticeable limp. Her leg was quivering, but she willed it to stay beneath her. Mackenzie and Durham seemed relieved that they no longer were caught in this situation, they ducked back behind Greene. The air could be cut with a knife.

"Piss on what you tell me, Master Chief."

Greene shook his head slowly, emitting a disbelieving sigh. This was not going to end well.

"I'll give you a chance to take those words back," John said, taking a step towards her, "Maybe I should have just let that Jackal take its second shot. I believe it would have hit closer to your head that time."

Renee's mouth fell open, not expecting this response. In a surge of anger, she withdrew her pistol from her belt.

"Lil Sarge…" Greene started, but Renee hurled it at John with a frustrated yell. It cartwheeled through the air and hit his chest plate, sparking his shields and ricocheting off. John could've stopped it easily, but he didn't move, not even to look at the pistol lying in the dirt.

"Fuck you, maybe you should've!" She shouted at him, "Maybe I should've let that Brute tear your fucking head off, or that Hunter blow you to pieces! Wanna start the maybe game, sir, well I've got a long list of 'maybe I should've's' when it comes to you!"

"Almost everything I've said to you in the past six months has been a regret, Sergeant." John said, "When I see your name on the list of KIA, I'll only wish that you listened to me."

He turned and left.

Renee shook her head in disbelief, and limped after him. She accepted her pistol from Durham, who had picked it up from the ground for her. Stuffing it back into its holster, she knew John would be already gone. Anger was surging through her, his words echoing through her mind, delivering the hurting effect that John no doubt intended. Her limp was worse than she thought; she ended up mostly dragging her leg along and despite the morphine she could feel faint pain shooting up her thigh. In frustration she stopped, and turned to look at her squad. All eyes were on her.

"You're high and not givin a fuck, are ya, Sarge?" Durham asked.

Renee shook her head, shifted her weight to her good leg, glancing down at her wound. It looked like a mess. Regarding what just had happened, she didn't have anything to say – what could she say? Everyone had been there to witness her explosion and insubordinate backtalk in the brief yet daunting standoff against the UNSC's one and only Master Chief.

"Maybe I should just fuck off up to the ship and let 'em hack my leg off." She rolled her shoulders in nonchalance, "This day is already fubar."

"It can't be that bad if you're walkin' on it," Greene shook his head, "You can't let it go forever, or guaranteed it will get infected, but ultimately it's up to you Lil Sarge."

"I'd look like an idiot for going through all that bullshit only to listen to his order after all," Renee said, referencing what had just happened to John, "I'll stay here as long as I can with you. I'm no use to anyone in a medical bay."

"You got after me for my insubordinate behavior," Mackenzie spoke up, raising a brow, "I don't think you can do that any longer or I'd have to call you a hypocrite."

Renee looked at him in silence for a few seconds, before shrugging her shoulders.

"You do have a point."

"Yeah but if you spew anythin' fuckin' stupid, I can still get after yer scrawny arse," Greene snapped at Mackenzie. Mackenzie glanced at him, then looked back to Renee, who looked rather dopy.

"How are you adapting to two doses of a very potent and addictive opiate analgesic drug?" Mackenzie questioned her.

"What?"

"Morphine."

"Why the fuck are you here, Mackenzie?" Renee started back up the steps, throwing her arm around Greene for support, "I don't think anyone here in the UNSC would've missed your presence if you stayed in whatever medical fuckin' practice you found yourself in. I feel high, pissed, sore, and disoriented. Thank you for asking."

"I still can't believe you're standing on that mangled leg," Greene said, shaking his head in disbelief, glancing down at it as he helped her up the steps, "You just fuckin took a sniper shot like a champ, you sure you aren't part Spartan 'er somethin'? Your leg is fucked up, that bio foam won't last forever."

"Master Chief got so angry at me because I acted _exactly _like he acts when he's injured. Gets up and keeps going. He's walked kilometres with smashed ribs and shin splints, do you think he'll stop or admit to anyone he's injured? No."

"No foolin' anyone here you're injured, Sarge. Or high. You're starting to slur your words."

"Fuck it." Was her reply.

Greene laughed slightly.

"Hey, look!" Durham called out, pointing up towards the sky. Renee, Greene and the remainder of three squad turned to see what Durham was referring to. Flaming pods were coming through atmosphere, making a b-line for the ground, destined to land not too far away from their position.

"ODSTs," Renee said, feeling like someone had doused her in ice water. She remembered Buck saying that they wouldn't be deployed unless they were absolutely needed. Something was brewing, someone knew something that the troops here on the ground didn't. She craned her neck to stare up into the billowing red clouds, searching for any signs of their ships. She felt her heartbeat quicken. It must be something that their ships must see from the air, something that was determined that all personnel were to be deployed.

"Lil Sarge?" Greene looked to her.

"This isn't good."

**A/N: **Surprise update! Turns out I have a lot more free time on course here in Ontario than I thought I would. Only three weeks left to go and I'll be fully qualified in my military trade as a Resource Management Support Clerk.

A lot of shit went down this chapter, and of course, I'm leaving you with a bit of a cliff-hanger like always. Hope you enjoy. - AB


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